tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49497166486829736562024-03-05T06:20:42.557-08:00Our Daily BlabNot even CLOSE to "Daily". Let me try to work my way up to weekly.pshenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12667072515864335328noreply@blogger.comBlogger128125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4949716648682973656.post-64481914466671722712016-09-03T14:20:00.000-07:002016-09-03T14:20:35.182-07:00The Thirteenth Commandment<br />
<br />
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<br />
Dear Church Guys with the sign,<br />
<br />
First of all, I want to thank you. As a Christian myself, I feel like many out there are doing and saying some terrible things that can sometimes make us look stupid to the unchurched, so you guys are finally a breath of fresh air.<br />
<br />
<i>"Wait, did you just assume my religious identity?"</i><br />
<br />
Oh, sorry! I just saw the "Eternal Damnation" and jumped to the conclusion that you also were Christians! I realize now that was rude on my part. I assumed at the very least, one of the few other fellow hellfire religions like Islam could not be your brand, since "Muslims" were already on the sign. And I have not yet seen any Hindus, Jews or Pastafarians with any comparable banners, braggadocio and bullhorns outside my favorite Portland Comic-Con. So fingers crossed, I hope I have sleuthed out your preferred holy book and I'm talking to the right person!<br />
<br />
Gosh darn it, let me start over.<br />
<br />
Unlike some, you are obviously willing to touch "homos" and other topics with a ten foot pole. Or maybe it is only a nine foot banner pole... I cannot gauge the height of the Deadpool shirt guy. The point is that you don't leave us guessing and clueless about our eternal futures, like some Christians who are unwilling to spend some time and money at their local print shop. You are not like those (pardon my french) "wimps" who shirk from the persecution of their faith by getting fired just because they screamed something incomprehensible in the break room at a dark skinned coworker. You are willing to go the extra mile, as Jesus commanded.<br />
<br />
In other words, many unbelievers are left guessing whether Christians hate them secretly or if they actually hate them openly. You take away all that guesswork.<br />
<br />
You actually love/hate those Thugs enough to tell them about the Twelve Commandments. <br />
<br />
With limited banner space, I know that you clearly took time and money to carefully list only the most damning sins for us to avoid. Moses needed two stone tablets to fit ten of the most important warnings from God, but you squeezed twelve onto one taut and durable piece of vinyl.<br />
<br />
I just had a few questions, to make sure we get our own signs printed up correctly!<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>Do you feel your methods have successfully saved many from the eternal torment of stepping through your church doors? In other words, do you feel we believers are doing a good enough job of telling people that we hate them? If we really love them with the love of the Lord, is there a way to properly hate them even more? </li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>A lot of my friends have complained mostly about the yoga pants line. I know better. I remember when I was a vile and bannerless sinner. I once admitted that if I ever participated around the holidays in Facebook's yearly "Thankful Thirty" fad, I would get slapped for mentioning yoga pants. Come on! It's thirty days long! Ok wait. That's the old me! I don't have the heart to tell those idiots that yoga pants are a leading cause for damnation by creating even more masturbators. I wouldn't change a thing on your sign, except maybe painting a connecting dotted line between the two, so people figure it out quicker! Also, I wanted to suggest a possible solution to the yoga pants epidemic in our nation. Listen up, ladies! Nobody likes looking at girl's butts! Gross! Ok, maybe porn freaks do, but certainly not the rest of us, you sickos! We don't like looking at your butts, so please stop. PLEASE. If you need to do yoga (which is also demonic and you will burn), the very least you could do is not make masturbators out of the godly men trying to simply pump their iron at the gym. Do your witchcrafty cardio if you must, but cover your basses. Instead of Bikram Yoga, maybe you could really sweat it out by doing Burqa Yoga? Just an idea. Your choice, sinner. Just kidding! Four counties in Alabama just made it mandatory. </li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>I had a question about the pot smoking line. <a href="http://www.cnn.com/2013/08/07/health/charlotte-child-medical-marijuana/" target="_blank">Charlotte Figi</a> first tried high CBD cannabis in 2012, when she was five years old. Her epileptic seizures went from three hundred a week to only two a month. But here is my question. Now that Charlotte is nine years old (two years older than the age of consent when God is forced to throw her in the lake of fire for her sins if she does not repent), will she suffer eternal damnation or will she be alright, since she is using CBD oils and not smoking it? Oh, and full confession, I myself have been taking several different epilepsy medicines over two months now for convulsions and seizures, sometimes lasting up to seven hours. And yet only high CBD cannabis stops my seizures and convulsions. Within minutes. Look. Listen. I know I am already hell bound for the times I smoked it versus (maybe, please let me know) the eternal safety of only using the oil drops under my tongue. Please let us know what your church thinks about using the oils, like little Charlotte. A lot of filthy sinners and unbelievers are anxious to hear your take on whether God considers the oils and edibles an acceptable loophole. </li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>I notice you did not have room for murderers, rapists or Democrats on your banner. Good for you. A lot of people overlook the far more toxic and soul destroying powers of feminism, but your clearheaded focus is like a bright and shining path before us. I also see that if you were forced by God or Kinkos to add a Thirteenth Commandment, it would obviously be something akin to the circle and slash through Black Lives Matter on your t-shirt. </li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>Is it only Porn Freaks who burn or does it include Porn Dabblers? What about all the boobies my friend said are on Game of Thrones? Lake of fire worthy? That show has actual girl's butts that don't even have yoga pants on! Gross! And same sort of question about the masturbators. Is that considered an "even one time" thing and you will burn forever or what? (Asking for a friend.) </li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>I can tell by what I guess are the carefully covered up white supremacist tattoos you got in prison, that you already know "Snitches Git Stitches". Ok, I'll be honest, maybe it is "GET stitches. I don't know. I'm just saying "GIT" kind of rhymes and flows better. ANYHOOO. I am no snitch, but is the "Deadpool shirt guy" someone you have already finished driving away from Christianity or is he actually someone in your church? Frankly, he does not look offended or afraid enough, so it is hard to tell. As I am a Comic-Con goer, I loved Deadpool before the movie made it popular. Yes, I live by Portland and have a long beard. Why do you ask? Anyway, I can assure you that Deadpool supports many of the things on your perfected list. He has spoken favorably of both homos and yoga pants, which is a little confusing. But he also has come out in favor of porn and masturbating, so maybe get rid of that guy before anyone catches that! At the very least, when you need relief, you should stop letting him be the one to hold your nine foot pole. </li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>My last question is probably the easiest to answer. If I were allowed to join your eight to nine person congregation, would I have to begin ostracizing and being mean to people right away or will I be given a grace period to truly learn how to properly hate people with the love of the Lord?</li>
</ul>
<br />
On a more serious note, what the hell is wrong with us? No, not you, sign guy. I think we know some of your issues.<br />
<br />
What is wrong with us Christians who can become irate when a Muslim coworker does not stand on his desk and vocally disavow every televised terrorist attack, but we happily scroll right past this? We see shit like this and are afraid to condemn it, because ninety percent of us agree with at least four things on the sign.<br />
<br />
Like spiritual beggars willing to eat a turd sandwich because it has at least one piece of lunchmeat in the middle, we stay silent. Be careful. Play it safe. Don't touch that post with a ten foot, bannerless pole. Maybe God hates homos and yoga pants as much as Church Guy and his non-prophet organization. I found this picture on the Facebook page of a friend who is an atheist.
I regularly find my friend shining a light on our absurdities, when we believers should
be the ones excelling at that.<br />
<br />
This Church Guy's partially literate God ran out of banner room and had to move some of His excess hate over to His brave follower's t-shirt. From there, sign guy could also clarify exactly where (his) Jesus stands on Black Lives. And yet maybe we do not need a Thirteenth Commandment, but only one.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Beloved, let us love one another: for love is of God; </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>And every one that loveth is born of God, and knoweth God. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>He that loveth not knoweth not God; for God is love. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>- 1 John 4:7, 8</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I realize all the blank space that our banners will have would leave far too much to interpretation, so here is an even better idea: </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Let's stop putting any "God quotes" on banners, shirts and bumper stickers for a while. Like, for all of 2017 for example. You don't even have to start a blog, if you don't want to.<br />
<br />
But then on January 1st of 2018, let's ask the weirdos trying to get into the Comic-Con, including the Supergirl cosplay women with their gross, offensive, spandex covered butts, whether or not they even know the beliefs for which we Christians claim to stand.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
If not, we can always go back to the bullhorn bullying and sinner saving signs. That seems to be working well.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
pshenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12667072515864335328noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4949716648682973656.post-85759808546859952882016-08-21T09:14:00.000-07:002016-08-21T09:18:45.864-07:00Something to Lean On<br />
<div data-contents="true">
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="cjl42" data-offset-key="e9oun-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="e9oun-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="e9oun-0-0"><br data-text="true" /></span></div>
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<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="fs0vs-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="fs0vs-0-0"><span data-text="true">I open my eyes this morning and I remember immediately how dramatically my life has changed. </span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="cjl42" data-offset-key="53rpt-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="53rpt-0-0">
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<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="c60hj-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="c60hj-0-0"><span data-text="true">But I don't see my cane first thing this time. I don't see the walker. I'm facing the other way, as we sometimes do.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="cjl42" data-offset-key="1grts-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="1grts-0-0">
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<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="cjl42" data-offset-key="bj9ts-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="bj9ts-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="bj9ts-0-0"><span data-text="true">I see the woman of almost thirty years who has been through more than any person I have ever known. And she has never complained. She may be the sanest and strongest person I've ever met, which makes her a perfect match for silencing my multitude of demons.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="cjl42" data-offset-key="e71vr-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="e71vr-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="e71vr-0-0"><br data-text="true" /></span></div>
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<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="drdqe-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="drdqe-0-0"><span data-text="true">Waking up first, I see her also facing away on her side. I run my hand silently down her hip and pretend I don't know it will wake her. She wakes up and silently pretends with me.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="cjl42" data-offset-key="qupb-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="qupb-0-0">
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<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="8pbc-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="8pbc-0-0"><span data-text="true">You can keep falling in love. </span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="cjl42" data-offset-key="emn48-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="emn48-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="emn48-0-0"><br data-text="true" /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="cjl42" data-offset-key="2kckq-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="2kckq-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="2kckq-0-0"><span data-text="true">All our new niceties and master levels of patience are practiced on each other. We don't know what we are doing, but we'll keep trying to figure it out. We'll become stronger. More patient. Weirder.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="cjl42" data-offset-key="b8ji3-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="b8ji3-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="b8ji3-0-0"><br data-text="true" /></span></div>
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<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="ar9c-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="ar9c-0-0"><span data-text="true">Our game plan was recently upgraded from the boilerplate "in sickness and health" to full on running around with our asses on fire to finally at least displaying some similitude of hope and kindness in the onslaught of this rapidly unfolding hell.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="cjl42" data-offset-key="v1tf-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="v1tf-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="v1tf-0-0"><br data-text="true" /></span></div>
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<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="3nld0-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="3nld0-0-0"><span data-text="true">With my cognitive changes, I struggle sometimes to focus on what is real and important. That includes remembering that I am not going through this alone, but that I have many friends who are supporting me.</span></span></div>
</div>
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<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="ftvan-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="ftvan-0-0"><br data-text="true" /></span></div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="ftvan-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="ftvan-0-0">Every morning I remember.</span></div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="ftvan-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="ftvan-0-0"><br data-text="true" /></span></div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="ftvan-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="ftvan-0-0">My greatest support is not framed metal. It is a woman's strong, unwavering hand and heart.</span></div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="ftvan-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="ftvan-0-0"><br data-text="true" /></span></div>
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<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="gdmd-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="gdmd-0-0"><span data-text="true">I could not ask for a truer soul than her on this darkest, sharpest turn in the road yet.</span></span></div>
</div>
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pshenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12667072515864335328noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4949716648682973656.post-17007452242554192142016-08-18T17:40:00.000-07:002016-08-18T19:34:38.957-07:00Textbook Anomly <br />
"I don't like him"<br />
<br />
"He's better than a lot that I've had," I told my wife earlier today.<br />
<br />
"I don't care, I don't like his bedside manner," she insisted.<br />
<br />
"Bad bedside manner I can put up with," I plead. I just want a damn diagnosis. He's supposed to be one of their best neurologists and this has has been going on for months."<br />
<br />
He had already told me on one urgent phone call a truth I could easily figure out with his repeated reschedules: he is incredibly overbooked and overworked. He's focused on doing the best he can for the patients and not their feelings. Regardless, I think he is alright. Although his lack of diagnosis did help drive me to say the F word about three times directly in conversation to Amy and I almost never do that. Hey, I've been stumbling on a cane for eight weeks. Sue me.<br />
<br />
The doc still has not made a diagnosis, but has committed to fully being against a Lewy Body Dementia diagnosis, as he says I am too young. For weeks, he said it could still be Parkinson's. He has still not ruled it out completely that we know of, but is now leaning toward something else. He said they're sending the labs taken today to the Mayo clinic. They will be "rushed" but that means two to three weeks still. The paraneoplastic autoantibody evaluation will test for autoimmune encephalitis. <br />
<br />
I don't know exactly what that is, but it does not look particularly less or more terrible than all the other diseases they were considering. Yes, that was sarcasm. But it is important to take into account he did not diagnose me with that, just that he is sending labs to test for it.<br />
<br />
As long as my memory loss suffers weekly along with the loss of being able to walk, I'm going to do my best to regularly journal about it here. A bit will be be boring or depressing. Or both. Like seven tenths of it for a while probably. <br />
<br />
A couple times today, Amy grabbed my hand and just asked "how are you doing?"<br />
<br />
I'm tired.<br />
I'm exhausted.<br />
I just need a break to catch my breath. <br />
I am grateful I have friends and family and faith.<br />
Thank God I have Amy by my side.<br />
Someone has to make fun of the neurologists with me.<br />
<br />pshenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12667072515864335328noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4949716648682973656.post-7993427480703707902016-08-12T21:07:00.000-07:002016-08-13T06:45:51.165-07:00Awkward Laughter and Uncomfortable Silences<br />
I don't like the look on that guy's face. Something ain't right. He's changed. He's grown away from me. He is barely a streaked facsimile. This trembling heap looks like a haggard Nicholas Cage after a Hangover movie level bender. Sick and tired. I'm sick and tired of that guy looking sick and tired. I want to look at least a little better in my Facebook pics with all my recent visitors! <br />
<br />
I have come to accept that my blog for some time will be at least a little bit of a journal of my current health issues, as they've only declined for the last eight weeks. The rapid decline is itself a story. With my continued loss of motor skills, even my being able to still type this is itself quickly becoming a story.<br />
<br />
Lord, may I only shuffle in my father's physical footsteps, and not down the cold, dark mental paths and dead-ends that he has been lost within for years now. I don't want my written chronicle of this current health fiasco to devolve into a poignant yet rambling, dribbling pile of nonsense. Don't get me wrong, that could be entertaining. But Amy and the kids have to watch that too and it could get embarrassing. And since I have always been the weirdest person I know, good luck determining if and when I cross over to that much weirder and more colorful mental side.<br />
<br />
For most of the last six years, I would jump out of bed every weekday about 4:00 am, to go to work by 6:00 am or 7:00 am. Now, I don't jump. For anything. That's how frail people like me get hurt. When I shower, I must hold the handicapped bar (I'm glad I was too lazy to remove it. Sixteen years. So awesome.) to not fall over. I need to hold the bar to be able to close my eyes as I rinse the shampoo from my twenty or so head hairs. Otherwise, my hips shoot left and right like my knees are a painter's scaffolding being loosened and shaken by shithead little kids. All I can picture is the diapered little baby on YouTube shaking his butt to Beyonce bellowing All the Single Ladies!<br />
<br />
Funny, right! Except all I can imagine with my eyes closed (besides the hilarious and come on, let's be completely honest, totally adorable baby video) is the glass shower door just inches away from my ass and shaking right hip. I'm afraid I will finally fall over, take it out and severely hurt myself. So, I hold the handicapped bar a little tighter. With my eyes closed, I shake worse than a drunk man suffering veritgo with Single Ladies stuck in his head. I imagine fate hates me enough that I would actually survive a shower door accident, but it would still tragically take something important, like an entire arm.<br />
<br />
That would make sense, actually. That would quickly overshadow the current problems. With every new Book of Job level trial and memoir chapter, I get closer and closer to just renaming the book, <i>"Well, I Suppose Things Could Always Get Worse."</i><br />
<br />
<i>Chapter 1 - They Do. So Much Worse, Dude.</i><br />
<i>Chapter 2 - Yup, Again</i><br />
<i>Chapter 3 - Ok, This is Getting a Little...</i><br />
<i>Chapter 4 - Oh Shit, I Just Lost An Entire Arm</i><br />
<i>Chapter 5 - Etc.</i><br />
<br />
Amy is not always a huge fan of my making wisecracks about my condition. Sometimes my timing is way off. Other times I sound more sarcastic or angry and not lighthearted. Or yet other times, I use phrases like "once I'm dead and gone...". So, I've been working a lot more on my timing, at least! Also? Cool little thing, guys... check it out... at least I'm trying to make jokes. Maybe my smartass comments being funny or not funny is less than relevant at this point. <br />
<br />
For a couple months now, I have just prayed to God to please let it stop getting worse every week. I'm going to let you in on a secret. To be completely honest, so far His answer has sounded remarkably identical to, "NOPE".<br />
<br />
In fact, my seizures have worsened considerably in even just the last few days in both frequency and intensity. My continued loss of balance and leg strength has been measurable, even in just the last two days. I almost fall every day and then I finish each night with amazement that I have not already fallen. Several times every day, I take a step and my left foot hovers in midair, unsure of which direction to go. I look like Captain Morgan, if he wore pajamas during the day and forgot to brush his beard again. Or his teeth. Disgusting, but true. Anyway! And that imbalance and weakness has just barely, gradually increased every day for weeks now. I often wonder when and where my first fall will finally happen and I think about how much I hope that I can mitigate any serious injury when it does happen. <br />
<br />
Ok, enough with the bad news. Now for the awful news. We found out yesterday that unless I make a comeback in the next month, I will be terminated and let go from my company in September. They bore with me patiently for weeks and weeks, but they only had short term disability to offer, which they even generously paid out of pocket. But they simply need a full time I.T. guy again. Amy's job ends by being outsourced ten days before mine ends, but she has some months of severance at least. That's good, since our health insurance continues as long as she is on the severance.<br />
<br />
Two weeks ago, I was assigned a Parkinsons case manager from Neurology. On Monday, I was assigned an Epilepsy case manager, because of my increasing seizures. The worst seizure was last Saturday, when at about 2:30am, I was unable to text Amy or call 911 for almost five minutes. Since then, the moderate to mild seizures every few minutes throughout the day have become part of the regular routine.<br />
<br />
The weight loss is still a serious issue, as I still spend the first half of every day with no appetite and with severe nausea. With intense focus on calorie dense protein shakes and large meals in the second half of the day, I was finally able to gain 4 pounds this month. But I am still drastically underweight.<br />
<br />
Well, this was a cheery blog. Bye bye for now!<br />
<br />
Ok fine. This is where I say something philosophical or funny or inspirational or religious, right? Or, maybe I could blow up and rage against the fucking unfairness of it all? Because that is always super helpful.<br />
<br />
I've told Amy and my mom that if I progress any further to requiring a wheelchair, I will then want to quickly plan to go out to New York to visit my dad a final time, before travel becomes any further prohibitive for me.<br />
<br />
Despite all this happy horseshit, I am excited about the memoir I am writing and the fellow writers I have been able to work with recently. As I've struggled with memory loss and confusion, their interaction is so valuable. There is also a good chance, despite all this, that I may take another writing class in the fall.<br />
<br />
Thank you all for your thoughts, prayers, texts, calls and visits. It means the world to me, especially during the hardest time that Amy and I have ever gone through.<br />
<br />
And there is easily a 4% to 5% chance that I won't have even more awful news in my next week's blog, so stay tuned!<br />
<br />
What? That was funny!<br />
<br />
<br />pshenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12667072515864335328noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4949716648682973656.post-20865991837011801752016-08-06T11:58:00.003-07:002016-08-06T11:58:30.381-07:00Crossed Wires<br />
"God, please let me go a whole day without something new happening. Please let me stop having new things to add to my blog each day. I am not praying that you make me better, just that I please stop getting worse."<br />
<br />
---<br />
<br />
At 2:32 last night, I tried to text Amy to tell her "I am having a seizure".<br />
<br />
Four minutes later, I was able to text her.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<br />
When the seizures hit, I can feel something misfiring and shutting down. It feels like it is behind my right eye and as if my IQ just plummets. I feel like a real life Charlie from Flowers for Algernon.<br />
<br />
The one that hit last night occurred after a very late phone call with my mom from midnight to about 2:00am. We had more laughs than any call this week. But there was also more screaming and yelling the F word. That's how we dysfunctional New Yorkers tend to voice disagreements. If you have trouble conveying an idea and need to really make a point, just say it in ALL CAPS and with liberal use of profanity.<br />
<br />
About a half hour after telling my mother "love you, goodnight" and hanging up, I sat on the edge of my bed and for four minutes, lost the ability to stand or even dial 911. I kept trying to text Amy, only to watch my convulsion switch to a shake so severe that I literally threw my phone more than once.<br />
<br />
I remember worrying that this was a final seizure before something much worse. I watched as my clarity of thought rushed away from me and was replaced by a gray confusion. <br />
<br />
Flat on my back and still completely seizing up, I turned to my right when I heard a noise. My dog Chloe's face was a few inches away, sniffing me and trying to also figure out what was going on. She also happens to take medicine each day for epileptic seizures. Small world!<br />
<br />
I thought I was dying. My neck stiffened and hurt so bad that I vaguely
remember grabbing it and saying, "what is happening to me?" I yelled out
in pain and fear, as I was unable to even text the word, "Help".<br />
<br />
I know a lot of people are praying for me. I hope the signals stop crossing and the saints are finally able to get through.pshenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12667072515864335328noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4949716648682973656.post-46068984921713432312016-08-04T06:40:00.001-07:002016-08-04T07:30:14.418-07:00Seize the Day<br />
My psychologist was visibly distressed at my physical condition yesterday. He had not seen the cane yet. Amy sat in the hour long session for the first time, as my memory has been incredibly unreliable for weeks. But I definitely remember she was there!<br />
<br />
My seizures are considerably worse this week. What used to be convulsions are now actual seizures and they prescribed yet another Rx yesterday for these. My whole body stiffens like a board so much that my head shoots back with my face toward the ceiling and my eyes slam shut for a second or two. I told the doctor that I am not comfortable driving like that. He agreed that would be a good idea.<br />
<br />
It's been almost a month since I have been able to drive. I had no idea the frustration and sense of powerlessness that I would experience by losing that one freedom. At least I have three different visitors scheduled to come by the house today, which is both awesome and scary. How can I be so simultaneously lucky and unlucky?<br />
<br />
After talking to me for the full hour, the psychologist assured me that I am taking this new development surprisingly well. Really? I'm not so sure about that. I am a decent actor and have been successfully portraying someone who is not dysfunctional or terrified for quite some time now.<br />
<br />
I told him that this trial might so far be my worst, but it is not my first. Amy said she has watched me battle so many impossible obstacles for twenty years, that she has only assumed for the last six weeks that this will be just one more test that I overcome. <br />
<br />
Two hours later, I had a follow up phone call with one of the leading tremor specialists for Kaiser Neurology in the Portland area. He prescribed yet another Rx for the seizures. I said I know he will not commit to a diagnosis until more tests are run and time has passed. But I said we were going crazy, waiting for some answers. I asked if he could at least indicate what by now he thinks it may or may not be.<br />
<br />
He said they are overwhelmed with patients and thus playing triage, but he will see me again in person August 19th for another visual examination and can make that sooner, if my condition worsens. He also has me trying a new Rx for my seizures and another final increase on the Parkinson's meds for my tremors. He said I am definitely too young for Lewy Body Dementia. He said it is probably not MS or ALS based on the tests so far. He said the brain MRI did not show atrophy, but this ataxia still could be residual damage to the brain from years of severe alcohol abuse. Or it could in fact be Parkinsons, even though that usually presents less rapidly. They are still somewhat understandably dragging their heels on a diagnosis, but that is still one of the most indicated options at this point. I finished by agreeing to email him my father's years of medical records, with page after page of identical symptoms that started six years ago with dad.<br />
<br />
One of their biggest concerns with my condition is how rapidly it onset, as mine progressed extremely fast. I slowly shuffled into his office two weeks ago, but without a cane. Now, a cane is barely enough to keep me from falling each day. If it worsens just marginally or even stays the same, eventually I will fall. I have so many close calls every day, even leaning deep into the cane.<br />
<br />
The neurologist finally said last night that this could be another nerve disease entirely. He said it will require further tests, like super fun spinal taps. (He didn't really call them that.) They're going to continue to run some tests and try this new Rx for the increasing seizures for now, but it may be a few more weeks before we hear anything more.<br />
<br />
Things not worsening for two whole weeks would be an improvement.<br />
<br />
Amy is driving to California tonight with Brittany for her uncle Ivan's funeral. Ivan was a great guy and will be missed. Amy and Brittany will be gone for four days and she said it is time to determine if I am a big boy and can take care of myself. I have not told her that I am pretty sure I will fall over and take out some important furniture, then try to hide it from her later. (I hope she does not read this!)<br />
<br />
Obviously, I am a big boy and take care of myself just fine. To prove that, I have invited about one hundred people to visit until my bride and firstborn return next Monday. And we have a guest room!<br />
<br />
Regardless of what this is that I am dealing with, I still hope and plan to get better. Of course, my health problems getting better has literally never happened in twenty years beyond a cold, but I will positive the hell out this. You watch!<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
My dad also started to lose his ability to walk just six years ago, but he also suffered dementia almost immediately. There are a number of differences with me that could indicate this is not the same problem, but temporary. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I still enjoy time with loved ones, fully aware of who is here or on the phone.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I have had persistent memory loss, but only short term. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I can still think.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I can feel.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I can type.</div>
pshenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12667072515864335328noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4949716648682973656.post-88384044122193309122016-07-27T07:53:00.001-07:002016-07-27T10:43:25.919-07:00Searching for Bottom<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I’m not the man I used to be. Once again.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I started this morning the same way as every other day this
week: I half opened my eyes, reached over to grab my phone and immediately dropped it
on the floor. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There is only a moment of confusion until I finish waking up, see the
leaning cane and remember yet again. Even with the cane, there were at least five
close calls yesterday. I cannot stand up straight or I otherwise can randomly
fall in any direction. Whether standing or stumbling, I must lean deeply into
the cane, like a kickstand. I warned Amy yesterday that I will fall soon.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I just don’t want to fall.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If it worsens even a fraction more, I will need a wheelchair
soon. My weakness and imbalance have worsened each day for the last month. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I just don’t want it to progress further.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Every day, I ask my wife and concerned visitors over a dozen
times, “wait, I asked you that already, didn’t I?” The faces of
frustrated patience cast a heavy weight on each heart. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I just don’t want to lose more memories.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The last two weeks have been such a whirlwind of change in
my life that I have not even begun to get my bearings. I don’t know what the
new normal is yet. I used to drive to work each day. I used to drive, period. My
symptoms have progressed so quickly that I walked into my neurologist’s office
on my own accord two weeks ago and now I can barely walk, even with a cane. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Wait, I told you that already, didn’t I?</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The scariest part is what I refer to as “brain fog”. I could
swear my IQ dips by twenty points for hours each day. I have severe short term
memory loss and forget things told to me just mere days or even hours before.
And I also struggle at those times with such confusion. Before we left for a
coast trip one week ago, Amy pulled out all my prescription medicine and daily
pill reminder containers. She might as well have given me a dozen Rubik’s Cubes
to solve. I just stared at the titration schedule on my neurologist’s release
notes and I couldn’t figure it out. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I began to rewrite my memoir about three months ago, when I
started to come to grips with my recent diagnosis of PTSD and being nine
months sober now. I had no idea that things would drastically fall apart much worse
and in such a short span of time. A good friend first asked me if everything
was alright at my daughter’s wedding, just six weeks ago. It seems like a year
ago. I said I was having a wonderful time and felt great. I asked why.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">He said to look down at my hands.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They were shaking as fast as I’d ever seen them go. And yet,
I was doing so much better than compared to now. I was still fully ambulatory
at that point. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Am I supposed to be thankful that I was at least able to walk my
daughter down the aisle, with just weeks to spare?</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To compound matters, I’ve spent the last few months
drastically underweight. I spend the first half of each day far too nauseous to
eat. Food no longer has any appeal to me for most of the day. Amy constantly
reminds me to eat, makes me meals and bring me freshly made smoothies with
protein powder. I cannot gain weight and am the lightest I’ve been since I was
fourteen. They have no idea why any of this is happening. They say it might be
old medicines, but they have been out of my system for weeks. And yet now we all are
tenuously and inexplicably grasping at that. We are hoping that it all might reverse.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i>This will all magically go away. You just wait.</i> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am gripped by the fear that I watched this happen already
with another man. The shuffling, stumbling feet that cannot lift high enough
and scrape clumsily on the ground. The ever quieting, stuttering speech that
rambles and mumbles and people have quickly started to ignore and only pretend
to listen to. The memory loss.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Wait, I told you that already, didn’t I?</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I watched it all start this way with my dad only six years
ago. I remember the shock when he walked out of our old Southampton home and he
shuffled slowly with his head toward the ground. He looked 96, instead of 66.
Within a few short years, he ended up on a bed, unable to walk or talk at all.
He has remained there for years now.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My neurologist said it may be another month before he even
tries to make a diagnosis for me. I have been on Parkinson’s medicine for two
weeks now. I’m so tired. I’m so thankful for visitors. I've asked for prayers for the first time in over a decade. I predictably and pathetically insist that in this mess, God has a plan for my life.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I believe there is supposed to be a reason for all this. I doubt there
is a reason for all this. I believe. I doubt. </i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I thought 2013 was to be the gold standard of my worst year
ever, with a botched and infected shoulder surgery, four weeks of being
connected to a vancomycin IV, being diagnosed with Central Pain Syndrome, enduring
my second, darkest and most brutal opiate detox and then finally watching
helplessly as I was too weak to support Amy as much as I needed to, while her
mom passed away in hospice from liver cancer.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now those days look so innocent. Now my hands wobble and
weave each morning until they settle on my dropped phone, cane and laptop keys.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I have to recover. I have such plans.</i> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
2013 was not my worst year yet? How is that possible? Dammit.
I don’t want to be an inspiration anymore. I am so tired. I’m 47.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I just want to write my story in time.</i></div>
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="10" QFormat="true" Name="Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Closing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Signature"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="Default Paragraph Font"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Message Header"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="11" QFormat="true" Name="Subtitle"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Salutation"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Date"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text First Indent"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text First Indent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Block Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Hyperlink"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="FollowedHyperlink"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="22" QFormat="true" Name="Strong"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="20" QFormat="true" Name="Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Document Map"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Plain Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="E-mail Signature"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Top of Form"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Bottom of Form"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Normal (Web)"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Acronym"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Address"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Cite"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Code"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Definition"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Keyboard"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Preformatted"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Sample"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Typewriter"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Variable"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Normal Table"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="annotation subject"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="No List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Contemporary"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Elegant"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Professional"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Subtle 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Subtle 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Balloon Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="Table Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Theme"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" Name="Placeholder Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" QFormat="true" Name="No Spacing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" Name="Revision"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="34" QFormat="true"
Name="List Paragraph"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="29" QFormat="true" Name="Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="30" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="19" QFormat="true"
Name="Subtle Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="21" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="31" QFormat="true"
Name="Subtle Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="32" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="33" QFormat="true" Name="Book Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="37" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="Bibliography"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" QFormat="true" Name="TOC Heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="41" Name="Plain Table 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="42" Name="Plain Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="43" Name="Plain Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="44" Name="Plain Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="45" Name="Plain Table 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="40" Name="Grid Table Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46" Name="Grid Table 1 Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51" Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52" Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46" Name="List Table 1 Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51" Name="List Table 6 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52" Name="List Table 7 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="List Table 6 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="List Table 7 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="List Table 6 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="List Table 7 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4 Accent 3"/>
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<![endif]-->pshenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12667072515864335328noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4949716648682973656.post-11029019550093813032016-05-08T10:22:00.000-07:002016-05-08T13:24:24.630-07:00Mom<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7Ke9x4xMo4lvxtp-VePeEMv7gKbfNofIMbtGUKfgFjkV5FI73merNZtmptn_oiQrC4EbLe9mrKufehzjV7sn6lHS5QndpLJdeBT310uWgijrVIm6oa9v8Wmj4D2y6QzCC3PktAd4pcR4/s1600/183920_1824497102523_1543126903_1930453_1854183_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7Ke9x4xMo4lvxtp-VePeEMv7gKbfNofIMbtGUKfgFjkV5FI73merNZtmptn_oiQrC4EbLe9mrKufehzjV7sn6lHS5QndpLJdeBT310uWgijrVIm6oa9v8Wmj4D2y6QzCC3PktAd4pcR4/s320/183920_1824497102523_1543126903_1930453_1854183_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
There has long been the joke that parents really do pick their favorite child, but they never want to say that out loud. Picking a favorite is something that I think also holds true for most kids toward their parents. Of course, many people sadly do not have a relationship with a mother or they have one that is incredibly broken. That is one of the most painful places a person can rest in this world, without the love of a mother. Yet, if you were to take a poll with most kids, mom is still usually the favorite. It is not always true, but moms often represent nurturing and healing and love to many, far more than their fathers do.<br />
<br />
Fathers too often mostly represent cold distance and wrath and punishment. Mothers too often mostly represent a protector against that wrath going too far. Finding out that the bible says God is a Father is often less than encouraging or satisfying when that word father is tied to so much pain. But God does have a healing and nurturing side that is meant to be reflected in each of us. And it is man and woman together that dimly reflect His complete character.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him; </i><i>male and female created he them.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Genesis 1:27</i></div>
<br />
I have always been incredibly independent (weird) from a very young age. I was not very close to either of my parents for most of my life, but we knew that we had love for one another. But sadly, it always went unspoken. Tragically, the words "I love you", which should be spoken and lived the most in this world and in shaping our children, are very often the most secretive and unspoken words, from both dads and moms. And the results often sadly show.<br />
<br />
I am and always have been genuinely in awe of moms and all women. But from the youngest age, this wonder was tempered and threatened by outside propaganda and the reality of home life. In other words, my attitude toward women was constantly damaged by both the lies and the truth.<br />
<br />
From the young age of four, my parents thought it would be healthy to allow me to indulge in my love for the female form as I refused to stop sneaking in to look at dad's Playboys. By fourth grade, I had a centerfold as a poster in my bedroom. By eighth grade, I had my own subscription and my room was wallpapered with dozens of them. But I also had spent fourteen years watching my parents scream and fight and verbally and physically abuse one another. I decided marriage and maybe even women altogether were something I would never have a part of. My attitude toward women was so angry and condescending, bleak and unforgiving for so many years.<br />
<br />
But then God brought Amy in my life and into my heart. I watched her peaceful strength help me to raise two wonderful kids, at the same time that she anchored me for the last three decades and kept me from falling apart, over and over.<br />
<br />
And now I can look even further back and I remember there actually was some laughter and love that did exist in my parents' home when I was growing up. There were plenty of times the parents were not screaming and fighting and crying. Instead, they were hugging and kissing and laughing and smiling. There were so many times they sacrificed and went without, so we kids could be provided for. They fought desperately and patiently to keep together such a damaged example of family. They almost lost me forever to addiction and violence, but they both persisted and with God's help, they helped prevent that.<br />
<br />
I can remember even farther back when mom fiercely watched over and protected me. She harnessed the energy of a genuine little psycho and taught him to read and write by the time he was four. I can still picture the day when she gathered her three young boys and tried to flee with us from North Dakota, when the terror and the violence had gone too far. I watched as she gave him one more chance. He knew it was his last chance and he never hit her again.<br />
<br />
As my uncle Jerry said of his and my dad's father, "The words I love you never passed his lips, but we knew he did."<br />
<br />
The same mostly could have been said for dad too. I knew he loved me, but oh how I wish he had simply said it, when I was at my most broken and violent.<br />
<br />
Now I've watched my mother for the last eight months, devoted and remaining lovingly at my father's bedside, as he lies there on life support. The love of a woman for her husband and her children is a fierce and awe inspiring thing. I do not know if I have ever seen any force stronger, more tenacious or often more heartbreaking.<br />
<br />
All too often, we are broken people breaking people. The greatest tragedy is never breaking free from the cycle of abuse or neglect. But sometimes, we are broken people who find a measure of healing and redemption, maybe even enough to share with others. <br />
<br />
Mothers work at the hardest and longest running jobs in the world. Day and night. And at the end of only their first eighteen year shift, they do not get a review or a bonus and often not even a thank you. But they keep working. And they keep loving. They keep showing something that the world desperately needs to see more often. They show us a side of God that we could never replace and one that we can only feebly imitate.<br />
<br />
If you never had a close relationship with your mother or she is no longer with you in this life, reach out all the more to the friends and family that you do have near to you. Hold on tightly and strive to be the best mother or father, son or daughter, brother or sister or simply the best friend you possibly can be. Surround yourself with people of strong character and example.<br />
<br />
Be the best human that you can be and try to pass on a lifetime of mostly healing and not hurt. Find those who are broken and without a mom or dad and strengthen and comfort and support them.<br />
<br />
If at all possible, do not assume that your loved ones already know how you feel. Pick up the phone and tell your mom or dad or son or daughter that you love them. If need be, tell them that you forgive them or need them to forgive you. Strengthen the bonds you have and forge new ones with those other friends and family that God brings into your life. Regardless of what you've seen or experienced, choose to be that person of strong character and example.<br />
<br />
The illusion that this lifetime is long is the greatest lie that we tell ourselves and one that we fall for again and again. But all of this actually goes by in a blink of an eye.<br />
<br />
Never let the words "I love you" go unsaid.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzOobb46dx-J1DdLnuTFiN9Qua_6_bX0ovY8lieHxnEd0FPs5hCkxiJIhwBycNmVpXrh68RhGfF7jAOdtIal5eq_JCSVNTFBx-vuNtE2nS99KTP5yohvueIYtq9HJk2mBLqQefGj6S1Is/s1600/FB_IMG_1459831643034.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzOobb46dx-J1DdLnuTFiN9Qua_6_bX0ovY8lieHxnEd0FPs5hCkxiJIhwBycNmVpXrh68RhGfF7jAOdtIal5eq_JCSVNTFBx-vuNtE2nS99KTP5yohvueIYtq9HJk2mBLqQefGj6S1Is/s320/FB_IMG_1459831643034.jpg" width="303" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />pshenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12667072515864335328noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4949716648682973656.post-14384375079367944352016-03-01T10:28:00.000-08:002016-03-04T03:55:36.553-08:00They Don't Even Know<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
They don't know the truth about you.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
They all guess what you are like.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
What you are made of.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I still don't even know.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I know you best and I am still lost in you.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I could travel the globe and yet</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
only a few steps inside your heart.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
My whole world.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
They don't know the truth about you.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
How you saved me and keep saving.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
They only guess your strength.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
They don't even know.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I saw you come down the aisle.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I barely knew the worth of this gift</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
that took me a lifetime away and</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
yet kept me from getting lost.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I'm in love with you.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I love others because of you.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I'll ever love only you.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
They don't even know.</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />pshenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12667072515864335328noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4949716648682973656.post-55453599551739540382016-01-26T19:40:00.002-08:002016-01-26T19:40:49.890-08:00People Never Change?<br />
<br />
Anyone can say they are not the the person they used to be. But have
you enough years and fire left to claim you are not yet the utterly new
person you are still poised to become? Or has that ship sailed?<br />
<br />
That is assuming, of course, that people in fact even can change and become a new person, let alone merely a drastically different, same person. Some say you cannot really change. They say it is bullshit. "Once a bad apple, always a bad apple". I disagree. I have no choice. I must.<br />
<br />
Maybe I cannot wrap my head around the bleak determinism that says we are all not even making these clearly terrible choices in life, because we have no free will. But mostly, I suppose I just really want to change and keep changing. As I get older, I can think of few things less abhorrent and frightening than getting so stuck as to never be able to change again. The final foot in the grave or at least giant step away from the insane ambition and wonder this once-child had flourished under. The same wonder that thank god remains burning in all of our artists who make life even worth living, long after our flame has been hidden under a bushel and beaten mercilessly and drowned in a cubicle.<br />
<br />
Regardless, I have decided that I can't be this same person in a year or two or I'll be seriously disappointed in myself. Part of that is just wanting to walk in the freedom of just being myself, regardless of what people think of that guy. But another part of me is actually a little worried that maybe I don't truly want to be myself for personal reasons. Maybe to some degree, I am not quite normal or sane enough to let that guy completely out. What if people don't like him? Even worse, what if they do?<br />
<br />
<br />
We
don't hide parts of who were are around people we've just met because
we fear they'll think we're assholes. We have a deeper and constant fear
that if we truly allowed ourselves that kind of freedom... that freedom to
say and do what we want at all times... we may discover to ourselves that
we really are assholes. That would make the possibility of a soulless abyss of fate and determinism all the more impossible to bear; imagine actually being an asshole that also can never truly change. Maybe that is why I cling so hard to a faith in forgiveness, second chances and redemption. And thank god... in change. pshenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12667072515864335328noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4949716648682973656.post-57936431559994428032015-12-03T15:54:00.001-08:002015-12-03T15:54:58.426-08:00Crying On a Cliff<p dir="ltr"> <br>
The benefit of the barbed wire fence line is that I could follow it in the pitch black, all the way from the road until its end at the edge of the cliff. I marched as deliberately and quickly, yet quietly as possible. It became a stressful challenge as I got within a hundred yards or so from the cliff, to walk even quieter yet artfully continue to chase the sunrise to my place of hiding. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Like a history lesson of photography, the black and white trees and rocks so slowly turned to dark and then light grays, then sepia and finally washed out palettes that gradually gave place to brilliant ones. My smoky breaths became more and more faint and my shaking and shivering lessoned bit by bit as the minutes and hours climbed past. </p>
<p dir="ltr">I began to cry, first quietly and then gradually as loud as I could go. I didn’t cry in my own voice. I was a liar. A fraud. A murderer. I’d stolen another’s voice, purely to kill innocents. I kept crying. Why couldn’t my pain be heard and attended to? It was as sincere a lie as I could make. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Then I finally heard movement. I could hear it, but I couldn’t see it. It got louder and closer. Maybe it was a killer, bigger and deadlier than me. Why couldn’t I see it? I sensed it was almost on top of me and I still was blind, in the dull colors of almost daybreak. I lifted my weapon, ready to strike out at either predator or prey. </p>
<p dir="ltr">I turned facing forward again and there he was, just three feet in front of me and staring me down. He only could get so close before I spotted him because his disguise was so much greater than mine. But mine still was convincing enough to keep him confused and guessing, unsure if he was staring at something living or just the base of an empty tree. </p>
<p dir="ltr">His dull golden eyes shined at me and he snorted to clear his nose for a better scent. He bared his fangs for just the briefest moment and I almost fired. Then he lowered his head and quietly vanished into the sage brush as quickly as he had appeared. </p>
<p dir="ltr">I had a dozen chances to fire, but I was here for a deer and not a coyote. He had a dozen chances to lunge and bite, but he was here for an injured fawn crying out in distress, not an empty tree base that didn’t smell quite right. </p>
<p dir="ltr">I finally spotted his low form again bobbing with each almost silent step. He joined with a second coyote, with as good a story as mine to tell. They disappeared, following the edge of the cliff, watching the same brilliant greens and blues as I did, suddenly coming to life around us.</p>
pshenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12667072515864335328noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4949716648682973656.post-889839522664248352015-11-18T08:01:00.000-08:002015-11-18T08:44:01.372-08:00Dignity<br />
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="endnote text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="table of authorities"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="macro"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="toa heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="10" QFormat="true" Name="Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Closing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Signature"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="Default Paragraph Font"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Message Header"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="11" QFormat="true" Name="Subtitle"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Salutation"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Date"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text First Indent"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text First Indent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Block Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Hyperlink"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="FollowedHyperlink"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="22" QFormat="true" Name="Strong"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="20" QFormat="true" Name="Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Document Map"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Plain Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="E-mail Signature"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Top of Form"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Bottom of Form"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Normal (Web)"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Acronym"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Address"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Cite"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Code"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Definition"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Keyboard"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Preformatted"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Sample"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Typewriter"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Variable"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Normal Table"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="annotation subject"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="No List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Contemporary"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Elegant"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Professional"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Subtle 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Subtle 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Balloon Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="Table Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Theme"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" Name="Placeholder Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" QFormat="true" Name="No Spacing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" Name="Revision"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="34" QFormat="true"
Name="List Paragraph"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="29" QFormat="true" Name="Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="30" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="19" QFormat="true"
Name="Subtle Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="21" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="31" QFormat="true"
Name="Subtle Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="32" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="33" QFormat="true" Name="Book Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="37" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="Bibliography"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" QFormat="true" Name="TOC Heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="41" Name="Plain Table 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="42" Name="Plain Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="43" Name="Plain Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="44" Name="Plain Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="45" Name="Plain Table 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="40" Name="Grid Table Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46" Name="Grid Table 1 Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51" Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52" Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46" Name="List Table 1 Light"/>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
I will always feel and see the scar by my left temple from
where he either hit me or threw me down. It happened too fast to remember which.
There was a blinding burst of white and then my face was touching the kitchen
floor and blood already pouring into my blinded eye. I scrambled and stumbled
and tried to run, but he easily smashed through the bathroom door and we were
immediately tripping and falling over each other until he landed on top of me,
hands around my throat and screaming, "I'm going to fucking kill you"
while mom helplessly brought her fists down on his back. No dignity.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dad told me a few years later he was at that time actually terrified
of me, despite having 50 pounds on me. We both had terrible, violent tempers.
Fear was precisely what I was going for. Back then, I openly insisted there was
no such thing as god or love. Like dad, I had bloodied many faces and had my own
face bloodied more times than I can remember. I believed the most a person
could hope to attain in life was to be feared, as I confused fear with respect
or strength. It<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri;">’</span>s nothing of the sort. I was so ridiculously lucky to have a
change of path and heart. Dad was lucky to have the same. Some dignity regained.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When my now engaged daughter was still in diapers, we in
Oregon voted on the <span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri;">“</span>death with dignity<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri;">”</span>
measure, to allow doctor assisted suicide for those suffering the most. It is
surreal to see how a father who once inspired such fear and hate and then eventually
forgiveness, today lays with a tube in his throat, helpless and silent,
powerless as a baby. Before he took the most recent turn for the worst, he was
already entirely dependent on the nurses at home, daily changing his catheter
and taking his vitals. Even when I saw him still conscious and responsive in
March, he could not walk or talk. I hugged him in his hospital bed and told him
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri;">“</span>I
love you<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri;">”</span> and he mumbled back <span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri;">“</span>I uh ooh<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri;">”</span>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Reduced to diapers and baby talk. Where the fuck is the dignity?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I never passed on the raising of my fists to my now adult son,
although he has seen the lingering, clinging hair-trigger temper burned into me
by so many fists from my past. Like ghosts across three decades, they refuse to
let go or stop swinging. I envy my son<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri;">’</span>s calmness, patience and self-control. I
am proud of him, but also proud of myself for having helped raise him on a far
different path than my own. A more dignified path.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When our parents pass, it often forces us to examine our own
brief time and influence here, as it should. You wonder what lasting good that
one man<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri;">’</span>s life could ever forge in such a short span. Like a blink of
an eye, it is suddenly already over and our footprints look and feel almost
immediately erased and meaningless. But in truth, like ripples in a pond, our
influence continues to spread out long after all sound has died and every light
has faded.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even now, a once violent man,
since redeemed, does not continue to fade away all alone and forgotten, but is tenderly
and vigilantly watched over by a loving wife and another of his sons. Therein
hides an elusive but everlasting dignity.</div>
pshenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12667072515864335328noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4949716648682973656.post-53463388798291645422015-11-14T11:29:00.000-08:002015-11-14T11:59:08.905-08:00"Pas Peur"<br />
A few weeks ago, Amy and I started going over some other countries we might like to visit next year and she nervously said she wanted to stay away from places more prone to terrorist attack and agreed Paris was one place that would probably be fine.<br />
<br />
As America is still reeling in horror at the attacks in France yesterday, I remember that one of the benefits of having so many friends on Facebook is that I get to see the broadest variety of reactions to everything in the news, from the mundane to the outrageous and tragic. Some call for yet more prayers, while some angrily call for an armed response. Others take the time to type out or read heartfelt sentiments, in either short posts or long blogs, while many others just change the colors of their profile pictures. While the many contrasts in such different responses are stark, all but the most extreme feel as if they have some validity to them. They also feel too damn familiar.<br />
<br />
When yet another mass shooting or terrorist attack once again spins up the quarterly or even monthly news cycle, the first thing I notice in the subtext of comments and reactions is a desire to speak out something, anything, so as to not accept it as the new normal and resist it being something to become desensitized to and care less and less about. The next thing I see is an obvious fear that if over 120 can be murdered by ISIS in the streets of one of our more powerful, vigilant allies, it could happen here in America. Suddenly our humanitarian cries and John Kerry and this administration calling to draw in an astounding 85,000 Syrian refugees next year and 100,000 by 2017 has less supporters than before. Just 24 hours before the attack, the President tragically said that ISIS is not gaining strength and that we've contained them.<br />
<br />
I admit I recognized the subconscious fear it could happen here when I for the first time in a long time remembered the job offer I got a while back from one of our federal agencies that specializes in protecting our borders. I wonder if there is more I could and should do. I also admit my response falls somewhere between the "just pray" and "we need to hunt them down".<br />
<br />
Here is what you and I do not want to hear: this ideological war will not abate or be "contained". The horrific and specific attacks on civilians will increase. The shocking nature of the slaughters and beheadings will continue to spiral upward and will be posted on YouTube. Our saying that "we care" and posting pictures of candles will not even remotely slow that bloody march in the years to come.<br />
<br />
This administration has made some important progress against these militants in the last eight years, but they've suffered some terrible setbacks as well. Maybe unfortunately, they also felt it important and useful to initially abandon the expression "war on terror". The terrorists have not abandoned that war.<br />
<br />
Like others, I am writing to speak out against the encroaching temptation to become inured and numb to these events. I want
to say something that is meaningful and important. Yes, let us pray for the families and friends of the over 120 people murdered, but god help us if that is all we try to do.<br />
<br />
When "only" twelve people were murdered in Paris in the Hebdo attacks, it was up until then the deadliest attack in France since 1961. Just ten months later, it is now paled and entirely overshadowed by a slaughter of innocent civilians that is over ten times in size. Shortly after the attacks back in January, thousands of Parisians gathered in the streets in solidarity and one perfect, succinct sign stood out above the others. Regardless of your feelings on how we should respond, in the face of the horrors assured to continue in the years to come, it is something we must all agree upon so that both our enemies and we ourselves see it written and hear it stated out loud, again and again.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Pas Peur.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Not afraid. </div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJwmXBvGYscDpK44YVXSzskca_E3ZestzGLLpaymz45GpQB4FLT3scy2PPE-tGbsrXFibZMiEU_OvxIKGcbRhOnJYdDv55ccg6_-DcHE05IpJK86ZjMKYzewYtTa2ErsQlm_xIYhUP29s/s1600/Paris.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJwmXBvGYscDpK44YVXSzskca_E3ZestzGLLpaymz45GpQB4FLT3scy2PPE-tGbsrXFibZMiEU_OvxIKGcbRhOnJYdDv55ccg6_-DcHE05IpJK86ZjMKYzewYtTa2ErsQlm_xIYhUP29s/s400/Paris.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />pshenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12667072515864335328noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4949716648682973656.post-49500241768931613192015-11-12T10:53:00.000-08:002015-11-12T10:53:19.190-08:00The Future is Awful, but the Ratings are Wonderful<div dir="ltr">
<br />
Howdy, subscribers! It's currently June of 2024 and according to what's now trending across the worldwide Teleweb, the biggest question on everyone's mind this election season is whether or not Secretary of State Chelsea will outdo her mother Hillary to become the second Clinton to rule in the Big House (formerly known as the "White House").</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
The hacker group Anonymous is again partnering with TMZ to promise election cycle excitement with their regular summer release of all the candidates private Teleweb surfing histories. Several of the highest rated candidates, like Kanye West, try to get ahead of the scandal by announcing, "of course I watch a little My Little Pony porn, who doesn't?" America nods in agreement and changes the channel. Kayne goes up 4 points in the polls.</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
Opposing front-runners in the new Christpublican party, like Josh Dugger, weep openly at their press conference that sure, they too have a serious problem being sicko "My Little Porny's", but their wives remain dutifully by their sides. America yawns and changes the channel. In an unexpected twist, the hackers at Anonymous give another press release stating they were kidding, as they honestly had not gotten to breaking into the candidate's filthy Teleweb histories just yet and "thanks for saving us the time by confessing".</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
Incumbent President Trump cuts the ribbon at the new D.C. mall attraction, Trumpland®. The highest ride towers several hundred feet over the Washington monument and thousands of Trump fans excitedly waddle in or drive in on their Hoverounds. In a first, the U.S. Supreme Court (owned and sponsored this year by Taco Bell and their delicious Monster Extreme Burrito Supreme) awards a full transferal of trademark and copyrights to Trump for his newly revamped version of "Donald Duck". The embattled and now financially struggling Disney Corporation announces they will decline further court appeals. Donald's Donald goes online to quack his Tweet, "Total Loothers!" America laughs and changes the channel.</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
It rolls into November, just days away from the election and the new question on everyone's mind is the provocative and absurd new Starbucks "Hoppy Hellidays" cup, now all in black and Santa skulls. For the first time in almost 20 years, in the ensuing fake outrage, every Teleweb server crashes for Facebook (now a subsidiary of Taco Bell). The secret council of the Illuminati Facebook board decides to leave the stupid Telewebsite down until January. </div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
Detached from their digital teat, most of America weeps openly and wanders aimlessly in the streets. Many are begging for a sign and direction of where to now aim their outrage as Social Justice Warriors on the Teleweb. Most of the traffic halfheartedly redirects to the already insane ramblings of the comment section of TMZ's telewebsite.</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
On a more positive note, the producers of The Walking Dead promise this year that their close work with genetic scientists around the world should finally reveal history's first actual zombies by 2025! </div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
The upcoming "The REAL Walking Dead" reality show promises to be a big hit on the Teleweb, with the first season's runners and survivors being none other than America's beloved royal family, the Kardashians. President-elect Kayne is unavailable for comment.</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
The producers also reveal that some of the real, dead toddler Walkers will be prominently tied up and displayed at Trumpland® in the "It's a Small, Awful World After All" attraction. They also assure us that these adorable Dead only have about a 40% chance of breaking free and devouring the living theme park visitors. It's an exciting gamble, as these cute little deadlers will supposedly be genetically modified to outrun Hoverounds. A full 96% of Americans agree that even if this happens, by now we pretty much deserve it.</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
In a surprise announcement, the NRA (now a subsidiary of Facebook) claim there is nothing to worry about with the Walkers as they unveil their national "Free 9mm with every Hoveround" program for everyone above the legal concealed carry age of 8. The next day, two people are injured at Trumpland® on the fan favorite "You're Impeached!" log ride from accidental firearm discharges.</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
America absentmindedly drools a little and eagerly awaits the next distraction or outrage.</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
Change the damn channel.</div>
pshenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12667072515864335328noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4949716648682973656.post-33255543277203335962015-10-10T15:19:00.000-07:002015-10-10T15:19:26.953-07:00Sunny Day<br />
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="10" QFormat="true" Name="Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Closing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Signature"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="Default Paragraph Font"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Message Header"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="11" QFormat="true" Name="Subtitle"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Salutation"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Date"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text First Indent"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text First Indent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Block Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Hyperlink"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="FollowedHyperlink"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="22" QFormat="true" Name="Strong"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="20" QFormat="true" Name="Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Document Map"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Plain Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="E-mail Signature"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Top of Form"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Bottom of Form"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Normal (Web)"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Acronym"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Address"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Cite"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Code"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Definition"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Keyboard"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Preformatted"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Sample"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Typewriter"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Variable"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Normal Table"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="annotation subject"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="No List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Contemporary"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Elegant"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Professional"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Subtle 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Subtle 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Balloon Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="Table Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Theme"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" Name="Placeholder Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" QFormat="true" Name="No Spacing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" Name="Revision"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="34" QFormat="true"
Name="List Paragraph"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="29" QFormat="true" Name="Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="30" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="19" QFormat="true"
Name="Subtle Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="21" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="31" QFormat="true"
Name="Subtle Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="32" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="33" QFormat="true" Name="Book Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="37" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="Bibliography"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" QFormat="true" Name="TOC Heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="41" Name="Plain Table 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="42" Name="Plain Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="43" Name="Plain Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="44" Name="Plain Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="45" Name="Plain Table 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="40" Name="Grid Table Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46" Name="Grid Table 1 Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51" Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52" Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46" Name="List Table 1 Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51" Name="List Table 6 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52" Name="List Table 7 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="List Table 6 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
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The sidewalk before the Westhampton Methodist church,
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The unassuming, Clark Kent-esque figure stood with knee just
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The slight, metal rimmed glasses would last only a few years
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pshenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12667072515864335328noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4949716648682973656.post-25953216423398489942015-10-02T15:51:00.000-07:002015-10-02T15:51:13.963-07:00I Hate Writing<br />
The little boy clung tightly to his mother's hand, sure of her navigation past the treacherous crosswalk dividing their Navy base housing and Vallejo Elementary School. He hated having to hold anyone's hand, but knew there were times it made sense, and that it usually made sense to not fight the wiry, 5' 2" mom who demanded he grab her hand.<br />
<br />
She was a beautiful mom, hard to dismiss, with her attitude and vocal demeanor. She was confident and outspoken, but her beautiful blue eyes were surprisingly accurate replicas of his own, so he knew she must have at least some deep wisdom to follow. She dragged him up to the counter for check in and asked if she could enroll him in kindergarten, despite his age. At four, he was already reading and could write a little, but they insisted he was too young, and to try back next year.<br />
<br />
A year passed and the same pretty mom dragged him again to the school and enrolled him, albeit a year younger than most of the rest. He immediately had trouble. A year younger, and scrawny for any age, the walking attitude loved the stories and activities, but the little one had trouble assimilating with the others. His tried and true resolution to conflict was to carefully apply teeth to others arms. This was, and probably still is, against the rules. He also refused to pay attention and reveled in disrupting the class, apparently intent on inciting rebellion in others three foot tall.<br />
<br />
The kindergarten teacher had had enough. It came to his favorite time of the day, story time, but she walked him to the back of class and told him that only kids were allowed to hear the stories and not animals. "Only animals bite others" and they are clearly not allowed to join in all the reindeer games. Shocked and dejected, he stared back with unreasonably, anime sized eyes and his mouth shaped like an "O". He refused to cry. He was still in charge of his biting decisions. And then and there, he chose story time over ever biting again. At least in anger.<br />
<br />
Mom was less than happy with the animal comparison, however accurate, and met with the teacher to say she wanted to pull him from school. Finally, the teacher relented.<br />
<br />
"He is the only one in my class who can read and write. Please don't pull him out. We have a boy named Sam, who is incredibly shy. He never wants to participate. Your son pulls him aside for every lesson and helps him with it. Can I suggest something? Could you go over the lessons each night with him, so he can continue to help Sam?"<br />
<br />
Mom finally relented in turn. She agreed to go over the lessons each night with him, as this was one hour less of him getting into trouble elsewhere. She did not mention having to hide the delicious Wonder bread on top of the fridge and his scaling the counter to steal it, but it was close in mind.<br />
<br />
Time progressed nicely, with nary an incident in the first grade. Second grade was another matter. The teacher quickly sized up the problem children and decided she in reality only had one genuine one. It came time to read and most of the kids were stumbling over "Dick sees Spot run." The precocious six year old was having none of this. When it was his turn to read, he read. Oh man, he read. He read just as fast as he could. Too fast. The teacher stopped him and insisted he read slower, for the other kids. He tried. Miserably. He read what he thought was normal speed. Then the teacher gently encouraged him.<br />
<br />
"Damn it! I told you to read slower!"<br />
<br />
The class froze. Teachers are not allowed to cuss. Even second graders know that, for pity's sake. The little boy smiled, more than satisfied that he had incited some small rebellion, even if only in his own mind. She sent him home with a note to sign which he accidentally misplaced. He proceeded to ask mom if "damn" was a bad word. Then he went back to school and asked every kid on the playground to share what words they knew to bring back home for interpretation. "Jackass" was cleared by mom as borderline, as it was an actual animal. "Shit" and "fuck" were less borderline and she encouraged him to stop bringing new words home, as he knew damn well they were bad.<br />
<br />
Fast forward to the fourth grade, albeit much trouble could be described for the third one. Dad decided to drag him and the rest of the family members much further than the crosswalk, from sunny California to middle America, just a few miles short of the Canadian border. Father was granted a special education teaching position on the Belcourt, North Dakota Indian reservation. The fact the scrawny boy was white was already intolerable. But they tested him and because of his scores, put him in with the sixth graders. As social experiments go, this one went terribly. He was already a year younger and smaller than his fellow fourth graders, but the sixth graders were practically twice his size. At least he was still the smartest kid in class. This granted him quite the honor of getting his ass kicked every day for being too smart and too white. Luckily, he was already unstable and knew how to turn a bad situation around until it was truly worse. The daily calls on brawls and bloody pitfalls were a decent sign this scrawny square peg needed to go into a different hole.<br />
<br />
Fast forward to fifth grade. Escaped back to New York, the still scrawny boy easily won the class spelling contest, much against his will. Then it came time in the school assembly for each class champion to go on stage to compete with the others. They called his name. He refused. Those fellow punks about him chuckled and he refused even more. They called his name again and the teacher insisted he go up. He insisted she shut up. He didn't go on stage, but he did get a nice little write up. These would increase with alarming regularity.<br />
<br />
There is much to be said about grades six through ten. Not particularly good things. There were a lot of suspensions and a lot less winning of spelling bees. The A's turned to B's to C's to D's. He was great at math and paid attention in History because it intrigued him, but English and writing were his least favorite by far. Then he tried daily substance abuse and not attending. The D's turned to F's.<br />
<br />
Finally, the surprisingly still scrawny ninth grader sat motionless before the impending fatherly advice.<br />
<br />
"You've been held back for non-attendance and refusing to do your homework. But I have a solution. I can send you to military camp. Apparently they are free and I can just sign you up. Or... or I can send you to a psychiatrist. Or I can kill you. I can make other kids. I am still of age."<br />
<br />
This really happened.<br />
<br />
The scrawny teen thought this over carefully, trying to decide which would cost him the least effort and most chance of survival. Father suggested another alternative which was this college English teacher would tutor him for the summer, so he would not stay back a grade. He thought to ask if he could still be an asshole and drink and smoke between classes, but decided it wise to squelch that.<br />
<br />
Then summer came. It was hot and miserable, but at least dad was planting him in a chair each day and droning on about about spelling, comprehension and some other crap. Then he instructed him to write.<br />
<br />
"No."<br />
<br />
"Why?"<br />
<br />
"I hate writing."<br />
<br />
"Why?"<br />
<br />
"It's boring and stupid and useless."<br />
<br />
"Those are great reasons. Now, shut up. You want your voice to be heard in the world, but you feel like it is not. With writing, you can make sure you are heard correctly. You can rewrite and edit everything until you are sure you are heard and not misheard. There may be a hundred ways to say something, but only one way to truly say it best. With writing, you can do that."<br />
<br />
A light bulb went on. Maybe it was a real light or metaphorical. But it went on. And he started writing a little. And then writing some more.<br />
<br />
And now, thanks to laptops and the internet, they can't shut him up. Not even the second grade teacher with all her best blurts and cusses. And he passed his finals and proceeded to the next grade.<br />
<br />
Now, he is old and gray and taking his first real college course ever, on creative writing. His father lies three thousand miles away in bed with a trach tube attached. It has been quite a while since dad could speak, let alone write. The little boy will forever remain grateful that his father sat him down every day that miserably hot summer and convinced him there is another way to make oneself heard. pshenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12667072515864335328noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4949716648682973656.post-46917683057642088482015-07-20T15:03:00.000-07:002015-07-20T16:06:09.788-07:00We All Go Home Again<br />
My mom just called me at work two hours ago to say that dad was in the ICU and just had a heart attack. She called yesterday to say he was already in the hospital, taken to the ER last week because he had gotten nicked from his catheter insertion. While there, he got pneumonia and it quickly spread from the lungs to his body.<br />
<br />
I do not know how much more time he has. I would like to hope it is a while longer, but I also know he has suffered for so many years now, trapped in his body. I think if he is ready, we will know. But it is still surreal to think that before long he will no longer be in this world anymore. That this world will have one less person, someone so near to me.<br />
<br />
I can only do what he instilled in me so well, to write. I know we are all helpless in this, he being the most. I can only type in the vain attempt to yell out against it all.<br />
<br />
As I just pulled up to my house, everything looked a little different. It isn't of course, it just feels that way. As I pulled into the driveway, I was reminded of a famous saying my dad told me when I was little, "You can't go home again."<br />
<br />
The title of Tom Wolfe's novel, the main character realizes, <i>"You can't go back home to your family, back home to your childhood ...
back home to a young man's dreams of glory and of fame ... back home to
places in the country, back home to the old forms and systems of things
which once seemed everlasting but which are changing all the time – back
home to the escapes of Time and Memory."</i><br />
<br />
I always thought it a bit ironic dad told me this so earnestly, as it was something which he obviously struggled with for so many years. He epitomized wanderlust from my earliest memories of him. I do not know if he felt this even as a young man, but it certainly was strong by the time we had left my birthplace upstate New York to move to the Great Lakes Naval base in Illinois when I was three. We moved just a year later to Mare Island Naval base in Vallejo, California. And then we moved almost every year after that, from California to North Dakota and New York again, to Florida and then Oregon.<br />
<br />
Like so many, his saying that we cannot go home again was more of a sad resignation than an affirmation. He would often speak fondly of memories growing upstate New York and setting high school track records. And he wanted to go home.<br />
<br />
We fled North Dakota, trying to escape the racism and physical abuse, as well as valiantly trying to outrun the substance and domestic abuse. I still remember the excitement we all had seeing his parents pull up to our temporary new home in New York. Even if only for a moment, we felt like maybe we were finally home again.<br />
<br />
I do not know if the famous Wolfe saying began to cement more into his mind at this time, but we could not outpace whatever we were running from. I am grateful my parents stayed together through all the fighting and troubles, but we bounced every year to a new house on Long Island, hoping some peace could be found in yet another greener pasture. But it was never enough.<br />
<br />
By the time I was 16, my dad told me we were moving to Staten Island, because he was afraid I would end up in jail or dead if we didn't leave. I swore to him I would disappear into the city and they would never see me again. After a short time, he convinced me to go with them to Florida instead, where his parents had moved. Once again, there was the excitement of seeing the grandparents and feeling like we were a little closer to home again. He bought me a plane ticket weeks before they drove down, because he said he was afraid I would not survive there that much longer.<br />
<br />
On their drive down, they stopped in North Carolina, looking for the dad my mom had never met. They discovered his brother, who quickly called her dad in Portland, Oregon, to arrange a meeting. They warned me that he was a devout, born again Christian. I told them to warn him I was a filthy mouthed, pot smoking atheist.<br />
<br />
I could write a book just about what happened in the next 24 hours, but I probably won't. I went from avowing there is no god and if he did exist, I hated him... to becoming a believer. I did not tell anyone for the first day, as it was so personal and hard to even believe, let alone explain. They woke to me ripping my confederate flag off the wall and dragging it, the bong that dad had gifted me, along with a garbage bag of everything else out to the curb. Then I told him we were going to go searching for my brother Paul, who he'd kicked out of the house weeks earlier for being a Christian. He said like hell we were and after a couple hours we were in the car and on our way. Just a few days after that, my dad sat with me in the living room and said the sinner's prayer. I made Paul lead him, since I sure didn't know what the hell to say.<br />
<br />
And from that day on, every one of our problems miraculously didn't disappear! We fought as much as ever, trying to find purchase in faith and forgiveness, as ever unsure of our way. We continued to fight each other as dad and mom fought to keep the family together. I've written at length of the trials we endured and caused. I left their home just a few years later on the worst of terms, with broken doors and almost yet another bloody fistfight. All of it just months before I was to be married and move with Amy back to Florida, to enter full time ministry at the same drug rehab home I had spent time in myself.<br />
<br />
When Amy and I came back to Oregon, there was still so much patching up to do between me and dad. And we did. So incredibly slowly and deliberately. My favorite memories of dad were in these years, spending time alone hunting and playing cribbage. And talking. Just talking. I've always loved being the class clown and if I could ever say something witty enough to make dad laugh, I had done my good deed for the day. And I knew there was a pride in his knowing so much of my weird sense of humor came from him. And we talked about our faith, with all its doubt and struggles. And they would worsen and deepen for me terribly as my health problems increased over the years.<br />
<br />
But our faith remained. We discovered that you cannot go home again, but you must become home. I can only hope he knows how much of that he helped instill into me, despite all my unbelievable rebellion and independence.<br />
<br />
Driving home in a daze this morning after getting the call, I thought about when grandma, dad's mom, had died. How he suddenly knew that bizarre feeling of someone so loved simply no longer being here. And then a few year's later he experienced the same feeling when his dad passed. That strange realization that you are now the patriarch, still not completely sure of your place in the world, while it is expected of you. <br />
<br />
Dad lies unconscious in ICU right now, three thousand miles away from me, but surrounded by love. My mom, his loving wife of fifty years is by his side. Even while he was dragging us at least three times across country, never quite outrunning himself, he still fought to make us a home wherever he went. Mom is still tenaciously hoping and praying that he will recover enough to be released, as she promised him he could pass in their house and not a hospital.<br />
<br />
Whatever happens next, dad is almost home again.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEini3zDgz7memYBuQ8wULrBJAuQrEOainxyNp_7XvbYT0fnmS3jatni6pcYQ9c4tHEjfr8WbVzA2fZjQ5-K5qe5BG34qDx9kb4u7jE_YHXFw3EjbM3SlTLWk6sDZuPeJ_nwtq5zOWsZ6RI/s1600/home.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEini3zDgz7memYBuQ8wULrBJAuQrEOainxyNp_7XvbYT0fnmS3jatni6pcYQ9c4tHEjfr8WbVzA2fZjQ5-K5qe5BG34qDx9kb4u7jE_YHXFw3EjbM3SlTLWk6sDZuPeJ_nwtq5zOWsZ6RI/s320/home.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />pshenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12667072515864335328noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4949716648682973656.post-40630562150635152282015-06-30T18:52:00.000-07:002015-06-30T19:35:27.197-07:00The silent... minority? <p dir="ltr"><br>
WWJD?</p>
<p dir="ltr">I debated writing a blog about this, not out of fear for speaking out, like most of my fellow Christians, but worry it would be a waste of time and breath. I typically hope like most writers to actually influence someone with my words and yet I know changing any minds on this issue is unlikely. The eyes and ears and airwaves have already become saturated on the most polarizing issue in modern history. The polarization is not just from the rancor, but the unwillingness to budge on beliefs, whether it be in faith or freedom. I know I can barely hope to only temper any attitudes and maybe encourage the tiny few who are unsure to think more about it. The 3 %.</p>
<p dir="ltr"><a href="http://www.gallup.com/poll/117328/marriage.aspx">Ten years ago</a>, 60% of Americans felt same sex marriages should not be valid and only 37% believed they should be. With 3% undecided.  A decade later, the numbers are reversed with 60% of Americans in support of gay marriage, 37% in opposition and still 3% undecided. This has been a hell of a ten years of many minds being changed.</p>
<p dir="ltr">The immediate argument is that public opinion does not matter in the face of something God has declared invalid. The same opponents have said the people and states should vote on it, not 9 men in black robes. But the court is now merely reflecting what the people in most of the states had already voted upon. Some actually believe the states should have had the final word to allow people to move across the country and consolidate, to further break down any chance of unity or capitulation. The ultimate show that the righteousness and holiness of God is displayed in retreating away in our churches and borders. As if our newly populated states would not still be filled mostly with sinners saved by grace.</p>
<p dir="ltr">The prevailing thought of the opposition is to continue to refuse to recognize the validity of the law or the marriages it engenders. Opposition to Roe v. Wade has not abated in 40 years and it is foolish to think it will here.</p>
<p dir="ltr">What can I say that is not one more ignored voice in the din? I have tried to emphasize one can morally oppose something they still concede is a Constitutional right. It falls on deaf ears. I have tried saying it is a chance more than ever for the marginalized and largely ignored voice of the church to finally be heard that love and grace are the good news and that regardless of our stand, we should be accused of being the most loving and gracious people in the world. Appropriating falsely a Rick Warren quote over a Duck Dynasty star still holds more sway.</p>
<p dir="ltr">I am less worried about Supreme Court rulings than I am the church failing to show the love and grace of Christ to our nation. Do you believe telling someone they are in sin is more important than telling them there is grace and forgiveness for sin? Do you think unbelievers, along with us, are not already sufficiently grappling with their sense of hurt and guilt for hurting themselves and others? Do you think the lost need our legislation to convince them that they are in need of a savior? </p>
<p dir="ltr">I have no sway over 9 men in black robes that are 3,000 miles away. I don't know if I even have any sway over my own friends and family. I am sure that I am relatively one more voice drowning in the din. But I do know this, my righteousness or sway over unbelievers does not rest in a One Man + One Woman bumper sticker or Facebook post.</p>
<p dir="ltr">WWJD? Would He preach a scathing sermon within air conditioned walls to only like minded listeners in their padded pews? Would He lead the pack of those carrying picket signs? The bible says the crowds of everyday men surrounded Him to hear His message, including harlots and thieves. Why are they not flocking similarly to our 2015 bumper stickers and Twitter memes and hashtags? His first words were to "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand." Among His last words were, "Father forgive them, for they know not what they do." In between, He spoke a message of love, grace and forgiveness and salvation that none of them had heard before. </p>
<p dir="ltr">We repeatedly jump straight to the message of telling the lost they are guilty and should be ashamed of their sins, a truth I already knew intimately and internally before I gave my heart to Christ. But is that itself the gospel? The Good News?  I gave my heart to Christ 30 years ago and it changed me forever. But as a hardened atheist, I took a leap of faith and threw myself upon His grace, not upon His wrath. And I am still a sinner desperately in need of grace. Can I convince even one other person of the same?</p>
<p dir="ltr">We must repent as a nation, but He starts first with His people. In Revelations, He first speaks to the seven disparate churches, often with harsh rebuke. A father has no rebuke for someone else's children. And His message was different for the church in every major city as I believe it is specific for those of us in America. What do you think His message is to us, His followers?</p>
<p dir="ltr">WWJD is maybe too simple. What will YOU do? Will your legacy and final words be a repost of a picture on the Internet or will you reach out personally to every person you can and tell them that there is redemption, grace and forgiveness only to be found in the Good News?</p>
<p dir="ltr">We stand at one of the most pivotal times in history and to never stop and question our motives and convictions might feel righteous. But the most righteous One to ever walk among us actually reached a few and changed them forever. And few single words are used to encapsulate Him anywhere in scripture, but 1 John 4:8 says that God is Love. The one thing most like Him and most unlike us. He might be wrathful and powerful, but He is not wrath or power. He is Love. And it is shed abroad in grace and forgiveness through the cross to the world. Not just us.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Regardless of your immensely temporal political stand, what message of Good News are you sharing? Is it the impotent opposition to the voice of 9 modern men in black robes, or the undying support of the voice of one solitary man 2,000 years before?<br></p>
pshenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12667072515864335328noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4949716648682973656.post-51136295586378301322015-04-23T15:05:00.000-07:002015-04-23T15:15:12.551-07:00Hello, this is Microsoft calling<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipUrXQQiwCOal56cPXYLbcprrBsW2B5hOUGhSP_xp2pLdXukgbwDtM7V5u96Dd7lpsF5ZeEoV3pXeh0vCsEtRrV8Mp-vIAm_T14KNfBf9qe8jP-jDRU_sOAGxJ8R9c-3T74pZUvsHawdA/s1600/scammer.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipUrXQQiwCOal56cPXYLbcprrBsW2B5hOUGhSP_xp2pLdXukgbwDtM7V5u96Dd7lpsF5ZeEoV3pXeh0vCsEtRrV8Mp-vIAm_T14KNfBf9qe8jP-jDRU_sOAGxJ8R9c-3T74pZUvsHawdA/s1600/scammer.png" height="212" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
This is the true story of a poor, Northwest housewife that I'm married to, being taken advantage of by a professional, scripted telephone scammer. The names have only been changed to expose the guilty. <br />
<br />
*phone rings*<br />
<br />
(Amy recognizes area code, gets excited)<br />
<br />
<b>Amy</b>: Yes!<br />
<br />
(picks up phone)<br />
<br />
<b>Amy</b>: Hello?<br />
<br />
<b>Not Microsoft</b>: (thick Indian accent) Yes, hello ma'am. I am calling from Microsoft support to tell you our systems show your computer is currently being hacked and we would like to assist you to prevent it.<br />
<br />
<b>Amy</b>:<b> </b>Omg! My what's being hacked?!<br />
<br />
<b>Scammer</b>: Your computer, ma'am, if you could just...<br />
<br />
<b>Amy</b>: Omg! What do I do?!<br />
<br />
<b>A-hole</b>: Just go to your computer now and power it on and I will walk you through the...<br />
<br />
<b>Amy</b>: I don't know how to!<br />
<br />
<b>Jerk</b>: No, I mean just turn it on and I can...<br />
<br />
<b>Amy</b>: I don't know how!<br />
<br />
<b>Flustered Jerk</b>: Ma'am, your computer is being hacked and if you would just power it on and...<br />
<br />
<b>Amy</b>: You're not listening to meee! I don't know how to use a computer! I don't know how to turn it on!<br />
<br />
<b>Jerk Scammer</b>: You don't use the computer? Then, who does?<br />
<br />
<b>Amy</b>: My children do! <br />
<br />
<b>Butthead</b>: Your children? Ok, is one of them available that might...<br />
<br />
<b>Amy</b>: Omg! Does that mean my children are being hacked RIGHT NOW?!!!!<br />
<br />
<b>Beaten Scammer</b>: *click*<br />
<br />
<b>Amy</b>: Awww!! <br />
<br />pshenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12667072515864335328noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4949716648682973656.post-18798450827589052682015-03-03T16:10:00.000-08:002015-03-03T16:10:56.793-08:00Leaving on a jet plane<br />
For our 26th wedding anniversary tomorrow, I got Amy a plane ticket to England. I made her pay for half, but I got myself one too, so I think it still counts as romantic, sweet, etc.<br />
<br />
Amy has never left America before and I've never smuggled a whole person to the UK yet, but unlike me, she actually looks like her passport photo. I didn't have a raucous beard when I took mine and am betting she gets less enhanced pat downs than I get. (The key is to keep smiling and addressing the TSA agent by name, so they will feel as uncomfortable as you.)<br />
<br />
The trip has a bittersweet feel to it. We've never been on a two week excursion before without the kids, who both moved out a month ago, and then on our way back from the UK, we'll be stopping in NY to see my dad whose health has not been so well. <br />
<br />
I'm fortunate my work will cover the stay over part of the trip, but would have paid anything to see him again. The older you get, the more you realize how finite this life truly is and want to devote yourself more to the people in it. I also think if my body hurts this bad at 46, I cannot imagine what it feels like for my dad at 71.<br />
<br />
He is relatively young for being so disabled, but a head injury from a car crash 8 years ago hastened his becoming invalid with the symptoms of Lewy Body Dementia. I am sure when he was 46, he had no idea what would be his lot in just a quarter century. I wish I had something more poignant to say about it all, but I am just reminded how life is so full of pain yet interspersed with such moments of joy and satisfaction. <br />
<br />
I partially assumed my kids would still live in my house until they were 50, and that has already proven wrong for now. Part of me worried I would never get Amy to buy a passport and leave America and that is now happening. With my severe chronic pain, I am not the most cheerful traveler on a one week intercontinental trip, let alone two. So her patented patience and grace will be put to the test.<br />
<br />
I am only a little stupid, so I know how lucky I am to be joined by my wife of 26 years across the globe. She has the added stress of her dad tearing a tendon just a few days ago and suddenly becoming almost completely disabled. She's at his house now caring for him and trying to arrange support for him while we are gone for two weeks. When I found her a quarter century ago, I knew she was incredible, but her strength never ceases to amaze and inspire me.<br />
<br />
As I enjoy one of my last cigars and whiskey on my American back porch for several weeks without howling corgis, I am forced to posit the things that mean most to me. I think you know.<br />
<br />pshenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12667072515864335328noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4949716648682973656.post-50489824828982374222015-02-04T16:11:00.001-08:002015-02-05T04:31:17.081-08:00I Am My Father's Son<br />
I don't want to write this. Writing is my greatest catharsis, but I don't see much catharsis to be found in writing that my dad is slowly passing away before our eyes.<br />
<br />
Today, both my kids are moving out and it is impossible for me to not remember that my moving out of my dad's house almost thirty years ago was on so much less friendly terms. Today, I gave my kids a card with money in it. Thirty years ago on the day I left, there was a broken door and punches almost thrown.<br />
<br />
Thank God I made amends with my dad and was able to spend some amazing time in the years following, hunting alone with him and playing cards for hours. That's the happy middle to this story.<br />
<br />
Much of the early parts were much more brutal and uncertain. My mom gave me her blessing to share many of them, because it is unfair to whitewash the story of such a sweet, brilliant and often conflicted, tumultuous man.<br />
<br />
One of my earliest memories of my dad was from when I was only three. I would ask if I got him another beer from the fridge, could I get the last tiny sip at the bottom of the bottle. I very gradually kept asking while there was more and more beer still left. Finally he realized that his having still half a bottle left was not from me having poor eyesight, but the very calculated scheming of a used car salesman and he needed to keep his eye on me.<br />
<br />
A year or so later, he sat me down, like most fathers probably do with their 4 year old boys, and told me that the Playboy in his nightstand was his and I was not allowed to keep sneaking in and "reading" it. When I refused to stop, he tried to modify that rule to my not being allowed to sneak in and read the pictures without at least asking first. Like an army general gaining crucial battleground, I agreed to that compromise. They were hippies, so this was the new normal.<br />
<br />
This was also the age mom had to explain to dad that the blood all over his old style razor was from me sneaking in, removing the blade and carving my name in my bed. And slipping. And trying to hide the evidence. So, he knew I was a handful from the start. I have since learned that evil little kids like me are made extra adorable looking by mother nature, so the parents do not throw us away or sell us to gypsies as dad often threatened to do.<br />
<br />
I first remember the extent of my parent's violent temper around this time when we were awoken at three in the morning to the sounds of mom carefully moving every book from upstairs to the downstairs without walking down them. Also, she sent down the bookcases. And a lot of F words. And screaming and tears.<br />
<br />
Whether it is nature or nurture, I first found I have all the terrible parts of both parent's temper mixed into one, when I saw a bigger kid bullying my older brother and pushing him off a swing. Mom says before she knew I had even left her side, I was already at the bottom of the apartment stairs and halfway across the park. I tackled the bully and kept punching his face until he finally broke free, crying and running away. Paul the III was six and I was four. The other kid was eight and twice my size.<br />
<br />
Sadly, both my dad and I have so many of those stories. I remember dad fist fighting a neighbor at midnight on the front lawn of our military housing while their wives screamed at them to stop from the top of the stairs. It was not over quickly at all. Afterward, she wanted to know if he was ok and I just wanted to know if dad had won.<br />
<br />
I vividly remember so many countless times mom screaming, "Paul, not in the face!" when dad would lose his temper and hit us two older brothers in the face. She told me later she'd read about Thomas Edison losing his hearing from being boxed in the ears as a child and always having that fear for us. Fortunately for my hearing, my mom can yell very loud and always convinced him to stop and only spank us with the belt. I think my ass wore his belt more than his pants, but I can honestly say I cannot remember never first truly earning it. I worked hard to earn it.<br />
<br />
Brace yourself if you have a problem with this. It gets so much worse. And so much better.<br />
<br />
One of the many positive things that I owe to my dad is his teaching me guitar. This was not his intention, mind you. I walked in, again at four, to see him trying to teach my older brother guitar and immediately informed him that I could do that much better than him and he needed to immediately make me his star pupil. It was not enough that I be good at guitar and banjo, I needed to better than Paul and eventually dad too. When I caught up to dad, he found a local musician to give me lessons. He also taught us both chess at that age and I applied myself with the similar goal of conquering them both and then onto the rest of the world. We didn't play chess quite as often after I beat dad for the first time. <br />
<br />
Our time on the Vallejo, Mare Island naval base was relatively short lived. My older brother fretted about the new baby sibling on the way and I told him to relax and that it was a win-win. "If mom has a brother, we can play with him and if it is a sister, we can pick on her." It turned out to be a brother we picked on, but I was close. But shortly afterward, dad was injured on the naval base and honorably discharged. His training as a teacher and job searching landed him a special education position on an Indian reservation in North Dakota, just a few miles south of Canada. As dad fondly would say, "we spent an eternity there one year", and it was incredibly accurate.<br />
<br />
Dad excelled at propelling the local high school track team to win several events at the state championship. He also had the pleasure of calling and informing the state officials they were complete assholes for denying them their awards just for being Indians and not being part of the official state school system.<br />
<br />
The local schoolchildren quickly rallied to thank me personally by continuing to beat the shit out of me every day for being white. I'd already nursed a lovely violent temper before then, but really got to see it blossom during this year long eternity. Although I was a fourth grader who'd already entered school a year early, my high aptitude tests moved them to stick me in with the sixth graders. There was a daily raffle to see who got the chance to kick my ass and my dad continued to put boxing gloves on us at home and try to teach us how to defend ourselves.<br />
<br />
At that time, my being allowed to hang my first Playboy centerfold on my bedroom wall as a fourth grader was pretty great. But things were more often not so great. In between coming home to the pot fogged filled house and the boxing lessons, I pulled my dad aside and told him that pot was illegal and he needed to get his shit together. My language had long been an issue and I first got soap in the mouth at four. Such a special age, apparently. Mom informed me that I had actually started cussing like my sailor dad at just three, but they waited to see if I would grow out of it. Dad knelt down and informed me that many years ago, alcohol was also illegal in America and eventually pot would be legalized too. I said that was bullshit and got more soap, but I didn't realize how accurate he would end up being.<br />
<br />
And then mom ran away.<br />
<br />
I called the radio station where mom was a rock and roll DJ and asked why she was gone. Dad had punched her in the face because her drinking had gotten out of control. She had a terrible drinking problem, but was especially drunk that night trying to deal with the stress of her boss sexually assaulting her. I discovered years later that it was actually the third time dad had hit her and the first two times were when she was pregnant with me. I asked what could have led to those events and she said they were both drinking a lot at that time. Finally. A clue as to why I am not so normal in the head.<br />
<br />
I hung up the phone with mom who had told me to stay at home. I felt this was perfect advice to completely ignore and told dad I was taking Prescott for a short walk. We meandered the whole mile or two in the general direction of mom's radio station and we somehow finally arrived there. Dad told Paul to look for us and he miraculously ended up there too. And then a friend tried to sneak us across state lines, shortly before a sheriff pulled us over and arrested us.<br />
<br />
I remember dad being scheduled to meet us at the battered women shelter and my telling everyone beforehand that we were not getting back together, no matter what. My dad seemed to know I was a lynchpin. He waited a while before he put his arm around me and told me he was sorry and could he please have another chance. It took a while, but my stony, angry disposition finally broke down and with tears I said, "ok".<br />
<br />
So many couples and families do split apart and all I can think is how wonderful it is that my crazy, usually screaming parents are still side by side. And I weep at how much I wanted him gone when I was nine, but cannot stand that I am losing him now. <br />
<br />
Dad said at the time that the solution was to get the hell out of North Dakota and head back to New York. Not getting my ass kicked everyday for being white was difficult to argue against, but we started to sense a pattern. It was the fourth time to move in seven years and that would turn into nine moves to new homes and schools in nine years. We would make jokes about dad always thinking the grass was greener on the other side, but he would correct us by carefully reminding us that we needed to shut up.<br />
<br />
For dad, the grass always was greener on the other side and another city was always better than the one we lived in. He was such a predictable mixture of discontent and hope and ambition.<br />
<br />
During this time, the screaming and fighting were never ending. So were the ass kickings for my always being the new kid every year and gradually the multiple suspensions every year for my fist fighting or breaking the law by bringing in drugs and alcohol.<br />
<br />
I first got busted for bringing pot to school in the sixth grade and then for sneaking gin into school in the seventh grade. I started the eighth grade with a literal shake to the vice principal's hand telling me in his twenty years, I had broken the school record for the fastest year's suspension. When the bell rang and the doors opened for the first day, I walked up and in ten seconds flat, punched and knocked a guy out just inside the front doors. I knew the vice principal was standing five feet away and was grinning ear to ear when he snatched me by my collar. At least he shook my hand.<br />
<br />
Dad knew that as far as a "trouble child" goes, I was particularly special. I was also an amazing liar and convinced him that maybe mom's great aunt Betty next door had stolen one of his Thai Sticks and smoked it. Maybe it was for her cataracts. I forgot how easy it was to monitor the bag with an exact number of pot sticks and I had to think quick on my feet.<br />
<br />
Dad started smoking when I was about seven. And I immediately noticed that, unlike under the influence of alcohol, he traded being angry and unapproachable to having a sense of humor and the nicest guy I knew. My specialty by then was saying smartass things while the teachers were trying to talk (and getting sent to the principal and psychologists), but with dad after a few tokes, I could actually get some laughs. <br />
<br />
But the violence got worse with both of us. I did unspeakably violent things. Things that would have now gotten one arrested and thrown into prison. From fourth grade onward, I was suspended multiple times every single year for fist fighting. They invented "in school suspension" during my tenure and then even had to create monitor logs because I somehow had to go to the bathroom every period, even though it really was only for a cigarette or joint.<br />
<br />
I don't remember why my dad hit me with that four pronged buckle, Navy issue belt for the very last time, but I do remember in my teens when he came swinging at me with it like a whip, metal buckle end out and I had welts on my back for a week. I stood up at the end with tears streaming down my face and calmly said, "is that it?".<br />
<br />
My dad earns at least one thousand bonus points for not sending me back to Jesus during this time. When I stopped showing up to school altogether, he offered me some options. He said I could go full time to a military school, a psychiatrist or he could could kill me. I'm not joking. He said that. I offered a fourth choice of going to church every Sunday, since Paul III had just found Jesus and hey, what the hell could it hurt?<br />
<br />
I had no affinity for church and secretly thought I had outsmarted his system, since it meant only one hour a week of closing my ears, not being asked questions, wearing a uniform or being killed.<br />
<br />
I celebrated my first church sermon by stepping out the doors of Southampton Methodist Church, lighting a cigarette and sticking a tab of acid on my tongue. I told dad against his protests that I was walking the two hours back to the house and I can promise you that it was more than interesting. They didn't have any "how to discipline your fourteen year old" type books at the time.<br />
<br />
Then they threatened to hold me back a grade for nonattendance and my college English teacher father stepped in to offer to tutor me for a summer, one eternity. We both hated it, but he leaned in at one point and told me, "you want to make yourself heard and there is no greater way to do that than writing. Every time you talk, people can misunderstand you, but with writing you can always go back and make sure your point is known". For the first time in my life, I started to love English class and writing. Both my parents loved writing and I am most thankful for it.<br />
<br />
But despite his summer tutoring successfully saving me from being held back the next year, things were still deteriorating.<br />
<br />
I learned without question that my dad was much more lovable when he was high than when he was drunk. When he came home visibly drunk for the first time in a long time, he told us we were all going out to the movies as a family. I informed him they were both drunk, an embarrassment and I was not going to be seen with them. He informed me I was to take all my Playboy centerfolds off the wall (a favorite of all my friends) with my new electric guitar into the yard, because we were going to have a bonfire. I started ripping them down and walked passed him grinning. That's the last thing I remembered for a few minutes. When I woke up, I had a gash on the top of my head bleeding into my eye and I was running for the impenetrable fortress of the flimsily locked bathroom door. It was penetrable. The last thing I remembered was mom pounding on his back as he was choking me and screaming he was going to "fucking kill" me.<br />
<br />
I spent the night bleeding and sleeping next door at great aunt Betty's house with no Thai Sticks to assuage my pain.<br />
<br />
But I could drink far more than dad. I could drink like mom. After a night of my own particularly hearty enjoyment of spirits and still illegal substances, I
awoke to two people dragging me unconscious into my house. After
thanking them for their generosity and asking them about my torn
clothing, I proceeded to find everything in the house that qualified as
breakable and testing it. My mom had a lot of glass things. Had.<br />
<br />
The
next time I woke up, I was in my bed looking up at the face of my angry
dad pinning down my right arm, because even completely blacked out, my
hand was now black and blue and bloody from punching things over and
over for the last hour. I remember screaming every cuss word I knew at
him and then finally saying that he never had loved me. Plastered out of
my mind, I will still never forget the look of shock and guilt on his
face. He could not say the words, but he leaned down, hugged me and
assured me that was not true and that in the morning we would patch all
the holes that I had punched in the walls. And that it was probably
time to move to another city.<br />
<br />
In the months that followed, after several house visits about me from the police (one for grand theft auto), my dad informed me they were moving and driving to the grandparents in Florida but flying me two weeks in advance to get me the hell out of New York, before it was too late.<br />
<br />
Things didn't get better, but thankfully they got different. While visiting the grandparent's house, I coaxed my little brother into dad's car and took off for a short drive around sunny Florida. At fourteen. Haha! Kids! Dad still didn't kill me, which is genuinely admirable.<br />
<br />
And then shortly thereafter, I converted from staunch atheism to Christianity. I assure you that is a book in itself. And everything was happily ever after.<br />
<br />
Just kidding! We still fought like rabid wolverines. It was obvious that the issue was not us as dysfunctional people, but we simply needed yet one other move, to rainy Oregon!<br />
<br />
We arrived to the Northwest with considerable more church going and zero drinking, but the screaming and fighting somehow continued. My departure from dad's household included him punching a hole in yet another quite penetrable bathroom door and then my ripping it literally off the hinges and screaming "Let's go! Let's fucking do this!"<br />
<br />
He thankfully paused, and with us both standing and shaking with clenched fists and barely controlled rage, he ceremoniously asked me to permanently "get out of my fucking house" and I said fine and walked out. And I never moved back in.<br />
<br />
But thank God, that is not how it ended with my dad. A few months later, I met with him and mom and asked them to forgive me. Oh glory, let the stupid healing begin.<br />
<br />
I was already engaged and scheduled to move back to Florida where the grass is greener, to enter into full time ministry. I was obviously a perfect candidate.<br />
<br />
But the healing did begin.<br />
<br />
When we moved back to Oregon and my dad saw me hug and kiss our children and say "I love you" over and over, I saw a spark of regret in his eyes. I still remember the first time he hugged me as an adult and told me he loved me. It was more awkward than a four year old saying he loved spinach, but I will always cherish it.<br />
<br />
Is this the happy ending? No. I already told you it only has a happy middle. Pay attention. While still engaged with Amy, she first saw my temper when my bad brakes gave out and I rear ended her roommates car in front of her house. I got out and calmly dealt with the situation by repeatedly punching the hood of my car until it was caved in and my knuckles were bloody. She ran inside crying, wondering if our fairy tale wedding needed to be postponed.<br />
<br />
Some will take issue with this making my dad look bad and others will take issue with the language I used. I think dad would agree with me on both points when I say tough shit.<br />
<br />
My father made a promise to never lift his hand to strike my mother again and these forty years later, she sits by his side caring for him as he can no longer care for himself. Those horrible, inexcusable moments of wrath and rage were not the sum of his life and neither were mine. He also went on to help raise me. Through every screaming match and broken door, he somehow helped guide me to stay off of drugs, the streets and the incredibly destructive path I was hellbent on going out in a blaze upon.<br />
<br />
I have never hit my wife and never, ever will. It is impossible. It simply could never happen. Does that make me a slightly better man than my dad? No. I am my father's son. We've patched more than a few holes in doors and walls, but even that has been quite a few years.<br />
<br />
I do not know if my father's dad ever hugged him and told him he loved him, but he should have. I am betting his dad so wanted to say it, even if he hadn't.<br />
<br />
In the few times my dad and I spent alone hunting and playing cribbage, I learned how much I am like him and yet so different. He learned how much I am like him in ways, like mom in others and in the end, my own man. One late night in the hunting trailer, I heard the most blood curdling scream in my life. The next morning I found out he felt he slept just wonderfully. He did not even remember the night terror that he had suffered and that his scream had woken me up. I have suffered those myself many times over the decades, but I had no idea that dad did too.<br />
<br />
We spent that next morning relaxing in camp instead of grabbing the rifles and heading out. We wasted hour after hour, content with playing cards, smack talking, making jokes and opening up as father and son and friends, just a little bit more than ever before.<br />
<br />
I love him so much and and wish I had a happier story to tell. And I probably do. The highlights are usually the loudest, stupidest and most sensational ones.<br />
<br />
But I know he loved me. He hugged me and told me so a good number of times before he lost the ability to talk, and it was one of the hardest, bravest things for him to do. And I hugged him back and told him I love him too. And I trust he absolutely still knows it even now, trapped in his failing body and mind. <br />
<br />
My father gave me so much. I hate my temper and cannot blame him for
it. But I blame him for my love of writing. I blame him for my
analytical and critical thinking. I blame him for my believing the grass will always be greener, whether I have to find it or plant it. And I blame him for my
believing a broken and imperfect man can seek for redemption and
find it. <br />
<br />
He was not a perfect dad and I was easily one of the least perfect sons any dad could have ever fought with and tried to raise. I love him so and I so hate to see him go. I love you, dad. In so many ways, thank God, I am my father's son. <br />
<br />
<br />pshenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12667072515864335328noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4949716648682973656.post-90631495810916264572015-01-29T07:49:00.000-08:002015-01-29T07:49:36.687-08:00Leaked Copy of The Walking Dead, Season 5 Script!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgms_2r21w0N60Nt7IzZ_uuQYFf0TcUibBGExMiuAwFmyscClhG8FG0rh69idxNsc0KSChGjRv-8_NMq6v6UciDCMvRr5YJ3e3VUjAcP_l02VTgbS8mOSHVojCg2LXv2iSQvY1Adwagt8g/s1600/Behind+the+scenes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgms_2r21w0N60Nt7IzZ_uuQYFf0TcUibBGExMiuAwFmyscClhG8FG0rh69idxNsc0KSChGjRv-8_NMq6v6UciDCMvRr5YJ3e3VUjAcP_l02VTgbS8mOSHVojCg2LXv2iSQvY1Adwagt8g/s1600/Behind+the+scenes.jpg" height="208" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /> <br />
I can't believe I am leaking this online, but with The Walking Dead just a few weeks away, I can't help but post this portion of the pirated script for their mid-season premiere! :<br /><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"> -----------------------</span> <br /><br /><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">[Opening: group sitting around, staring at campfire. Walker groans in near distance.]<br /><br />(<i>after long silence</i>)<br /><br /><b>Rick</b>: From the old life, what do you guys miss the mo...<br /><br /><b>Carol</b>: INTERNET<br /><br /><b>Rick</b>: wait.. wha... you didn't even think about... ok, so NOT running water? Are you kidding me?<br /><br /><b>Carol</b>: I swear I could burn alive a sick person for just 5 minutes of Internet. I just... I just miss it so mu.... (<i>chokes up</i>)<br /><br /><b>Daryl</b>: Um... (<i>awkward, pained glances at Rick. Then Carol. Then Carl. Then fire.</i>)<br /><br /><b>Carl</b>: I... I guess I kinda miss my X-Bo....<br /><br /><b>Rick</b>: KORRL! Grown ups are talking here! Daryl! Help me here!<br /><br /><b>Daryl</b>: I... I miss... I don't know... whatever. Hot chicks? Moonshine? THERE. You happy?! Whatever. (<i>awkward glances. Flips hair covering eyes, falls right back down again.</i>)<br /><br /><b>Rick</b>: (<i>agitated) </i>So, let me get this straight.... Carrrrrol... what you miss the most... NOT dental care.... NOT being able to get up each day without your head being eaten.... NOT being free of cholera.... you pick the... </span><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">the.... the... </span></span><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">the.... the... </span></span>(<i>tilts head completely sideways</i>) the... Innnnnnternet?<br /><br /><b>Carol</b>: Yes, dammit! Don't you judge me! Don't pretend you don't miss it too! Remember! Remember when all of us, every single person in America stared at our phones for 6 hours a day?! First thing when we woke up and last thing before we fell asleep?! Don't tell me you don't miss that more than anything, Riiiiiick!! <br /><br /><b>Rick</b>: (<i>looks perplexed</i>) Nuh... NOOO! No, Carrrrrrol... (<i>tilts head sideways other direction</i>) I doooon't...<br /><br /><b>Carol</b>: For god's sake, Rick! Come on! Google, Facebook, YouTube, NetFlix! Amazon, Wikipedia, Twitter! Don't tell me you don't miss it more than anything! That WAS the pinnacle of civilization! Words With Frieeeeendssss!!! That was half of my life!!!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">(<i>Carl secretly pulls out dead iPhone from pocket with crude Candy Crush graphics drawn on screen with crayons)</i><br /><b> </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><b>Rick</b>: Just... just... for the love of... just stopppppp... Carol...<br /><br />(<i>Walker groans becoming louder</i>)<b> </b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><b>Carol</b>: *sigh* Fine.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">(<i>long silence)</i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><b>Carol</b>: (<i>quiet, almost a whisper</i>) GOD what sick person I wouldn't kill for one more chance to look at my Instagr...<br /><br /><b>Rick / Daryl</b>: (<i>in unison</i>) SHUT UP, CAROL!!<br /><br />(<i>Walker bites Carol's head)</i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><i>(Cue cool new opening credits</i>)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"> -----------------------</span><br />
<br />
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pshenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12667072515864335328noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4949716648682973656.post-78194523474719746782014-12-19T13:02:00.000-08:002014-12-19T13:02:02.826-08:00This December, let's remember the real meaning of Christians<br />
What is the first thing you think about when you imagine a "Christian"?<br />
<br />
For some, it is picturing someone like Mother Teresa or Martin Luther King Jr.<br />
<br />
I like to think of people like Charles Spurgeon. I have his complete works of every single sermon he ever preached, over 60 years. That's a lot of Sundays.<br />
<br />
And I don't just like him because he had a killer beard, enjoyed wine and loved a daily cigar. Yes, that would be enough. But Spurgeon truly loved and so clearly knew about Christ's central message of grace. <br />
<br />
But for many others outside the church, they immediately think of Christians to be like the funeral protesting Westboro Baptist Church, who proudly proclaim their official website of godhatesfags.com. Sadly, it is easier to focus on the loudest idiots.<br />
<br />
Last December, I wrote "<a href="http://www.ourdailyblab.com/2013/12/this-season-lets-remember-to-keep.html" target="_blank">This season, let's remember to keep Christ in Christians!</a>", partially as a response to the then current controversy of Phil Robertson equating homosexuality and bestiality in GQ magazine. At the time, almost all of America divided neatly into two camps of either declaring him a bigot or a defender of wholesome family values. <a href="https://www.facebook.com/video.php?v=10154899936695389" target="_blank">Even his son Willie recently came out to say the family does not agree with his statements.</a><br />
<br />
Look, in general, I think Phil is probably a fairly nice guy. I know he loves the Lord and he obviously has an awesome beard. He stumbled over his words a little and probably wishes he had taken a little more time to make his point, instead of blurting out those sound bites. But when we have a vicseral disgust and dislike of "certain people", it will eventually come out in our words and actions. Always.<br />
<br />
Phil's picture, superimposed with a quote that "<i>you do not have to compromise convictions to be compassionate</i>" is reposted in my Facebook feed at least once a week, despite the fact Phil literally never said that. <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/601712-our-culture-has-accepted-two-huge-lies-the-first-is" target="_blank">Rick Warren did</a>.<br />
<br />
That has been pointed out repeatedly, but people will keep posting it because pictures with text pasted over them that reinforce what we already believe must be true, right? So, why even bother to fact check?<br />
<br />
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<br />
Now it is December and right on cue, many of my fellow Christians have become much more vocal. My blog certainly qualifies for that, but in truth it is because I invariably become more introspective and prone to examining myself and our motives.<br />
<br />
Every year about this time, we Christians scramble and protest that there is a great war against us because we cannot put up nativity scenes in the town square. The fact that we are free to put them up in our front yards and would have a violently different reaction in say, China or Pakistan, is never quite enough for us. We want everyone else to publicly admit that December 25th was Jesus' birthday.<br />
<br />
We are not completely positive on the day of course, but we do know the bible says his birth was announced to nearby shepherds tending their sheep in their field at night. But historically, shepherds have never kept their flock outside at night in Bethlehem <a href="http://en.wikibooks.org/wiki/The_Pagan_Beliefs_Surrounding_Christmas/The_Date_Jesus_was_Born" target="_blank">any further than the fall</a>.<br />
<br />
Oops.<br />
<br />
Don't get me wrong (some of you have already decided to get me wrong), I do love the Lord. And I love celebrating His birth. And I love celebrating his sacrifice on the cross and His resurrection. I am not convinced the decorated pine tree in my living room is what He had in mind, but it is sparkly and pretty and putting presents under the refrigerator would just be silly.<br />
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Weirdos, following the crowd</span></i></div>
<br />
<b>We talk every December about the "real meaning of Christmas", but I want to spend a moment to ask aloud about the "real meaning of Christians". </b><br />
<br />
I am not stupid. I am confident very few would pick me as a prime example over Mother Teresa or even Phil Robertson, but let's look instead at the words of the man Himself who was born in a manger, probably no later than August:<br />
<br />
<i><b>"By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another."</b></i> <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=John+13%3A35&version=KJV" target="_blank">(John 13:35)</a><br />
<br />
The fact that we self proclaimed disciples profess to show that love with everything from feeding the homeless in the streets of Calcutta to protesting soldiers' funerals with "God Hates Fags" signs is understandably confusing for unbelievers.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=matthew+22%3A37-40&version=NKJV" target="_blank">Jesus also said</a> the greatest commandment is to <b>love God with all of our heart</b> and the second command is to <b>love our neighbors as ourselves</b>, and that upon these two things hang all the law and prophets.<br />
<br />
So... if we keep these two things, then we keep the whole shebang. Sweet! But how do we love God with all our heart and love our neighbors as we love ourselves?<br />
<br />
I, for one, vote that we do not picket funerals, but for some, showing the "love of God" is the slightly more subtle (as a brick) gesture of vowing to no longer speak to their own child who has come out as gay on the holidays.<br />
<br />
I mean for pity sake, right in between the servings of stuffing and turkey! Boom. Disowned. It is what the Lord would want us to do. Tough love. Tough noogies. Hate the sin, love the sinner. (Where is that verse again?)<br />
<br />
Here is a modest suggestion (that Jesus made): love your neighbor AS YOURSELF.<br />
<br />
We often forget the import of those last two words, but they are so pivotal. When you give (or refuse) a dollar to that homeless person, do you actually love them as yourself? Do you imagine it possible for you to have made the decisions they have that led them to that place of destitution and addiction? Do you view them as a person of great value and still worthy of dignity and respect?<br />
<br />
For me, few words exemplify the true meaning of loving others as myself more than the word RESPECT.<br />
<br />
How is it that we've so long fooled ourselves into thinking we can love people we do not even like or respect?<br />
<br />
If I were to give something to a homeless person, I immediately wonder if I do it with genuine compassion or merely patronizingly, as if with a pat on the head to someone beneath me and certainly not my equal.<br />
<br />
We make excuses that our love of righteousness and holiness is what moves us to shun and treat others with disgust. Aside from being hypocritical, it is self defeating. It doesn't just make us look like bigots, it is mind numbingly stupid. <br />
<br />
Jesus said of Himself that "<i><b>The Son of man came eating and drinking, and they say, Behold a man gluttonous, and a winebibber, a friend of publicans and sinners. But wisdom is justified of her children.</b></i>" <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Matthew+11%3A19&version=KJV" target="_blank">(Matthew 11:19)</a><br />
<br />
People flocked around Jesus and not because he preached "god hates you". Like no other, He spoke of repentance, but also of grace and forgiveness. <br />
<br />
It might be relevant to ask ourselves as believers when was the last time we ate and drank with a publican or a sinner... or a homeless person... or a gay person... or an atheist... or a Muslim... or anyone for that matter who did not neatly fit into our accepted paradigm of "good people".<br />
<br />
But it is probably far more relevant to ask not how many gay or atheist or fill-in-the-blank "friends" we think that we have, but how many of them consider us to be THEIR friend.<br />
<br />
Not surprisingly, the harshest criticism and preaching Jesus ever had was toward the religious hypocrites of the day, those lacking all grace or forgiveness and quickest to pick up a rock to stone someone, not unlike <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/12/03/arizona-pastor-steven-anderson-gay-men-_n_6263720.html" target="_blank">this jackass in Arizona</a>. <br />
<br />
Paul told us that we ought to "<i><b>Let nothing be done through strife or vainglory; but in lowliness of mind let each esteem other better than themselves. Look not every man on his own things, but every man also on the things of others. Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus.</b></i>" <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Philippians+2%3A3-5&version=KJV" target="_blank">(Philippians 2:3-5)</a><br />
<br />
It is difficult to imagine the full extent of what it truly means to esteem others better than myself, but I imagine it is better served in the trenches of Calcutta than in a picket line.<br />
<br />
The truth is that every moment of every day, we believers are tempted to create God in OUR own image. If we stupidly walk away from the bible believing He is a God who is perpetually condescending, angry and hateful, then that is exactly the kind of face we will show to the world. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=matthew+18%3A23-35&version=KJV" target="_blank">Jesus told a parable</a> in which He said that the kingdom of heaven was like an ungrateful slave forgiven of a huge debt by his master, only to go out and throw into prison a fellow slave who owed him a tiny amount in comparison. Jesus said the master heard of it and threw that first slave back into prison for being so unforgiving and hypocritical.<br />
<br />
He then said, "<i><b>Shouldest not thou also have had compassion on thy fellowservant, even as I had pity on thee?</b></i>" <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=matthew+18%3A33&version=KJV" target="_blank">(Matthew 18:33)</a><br />
<br />
I try my best to show genuine compassion, respect and friendship to everyone, not because I am better than them. It is the very opposite. I too am a sinner, forgiven of an immeasurable debt.<br />
<br />
Do you get creeped out and your skin crawl when you get near gays? Well, that is exactly how I feel when I get around fellow Christians who hate only "certain people".<br />
<br />
One infinitely higher than me lowered Himself to forgive me, show me grace and call me family and a friend. So then, who am I to pretend I am better than anyone else and more deserving of genuine compassion and respect? The very thought of cloaking such arrogance and disgust for others within the folds of "faith" is nothing short of repulsive.<br />
<br />
Sure, this kind of Christianity is a little less satisfying for some and admittedly a whole lot more boring.<br />
<br />
<i>"Quick, let's turn on CNN and see what those wacky Christians are up to now! Uh-oh, they're protesting the nativity scene ban again! Ooh! Now they're refusing to sell wedding cakes and protesting people's constitutional right to get married!"</i><br />
<br />
But what if instead, the majority of unbelievers imagining "what is a Christian" were to simply picture real, everyday people who treated them with dignity, basic respect and whenever possible, sincere compassion and friendship?<br />
<br />
I am not pretending to be a shining example of this, either. If already you don't think my beard, wine and cigars are Spurgeonesque, I promise you my bad mouth and angry temper will wipe away that comparison quick as hell.<br />
<br />
Even when someone cuts me off in traffic, "love your neighbor as yourself" can quickly turn into me yelling "hey, go love yourself!" But it is still a standard I haltingly aspire toward. The first and second commandments to love God and love others are what I try to make my truest foundation and greatest focus. <br />
<br />
<b>Fellow Christians</b>... let us quit just talking about grace and start showing it. Let us quit talking about "tough love" and about our supposed love for righteousness and holiness, while using it as an excuse to push people away from us.<br />
<br />
Let us just try actual love.<br />
<br />
Please, let us just show sincere love for people. Let us try plain, basic compassion and grace for our fellow human beings. Let's all practice that for a little while before we think we've graduated to doing anything else of import.<br />
<br />
It is incredible how we believers claim to be the ones who can see the light and are no longer blind, all the while we're not fooling God or the world, just ourselves. Whenever we indulge in hypocrisy, condescension, self-righteousness or patronizing, it is so clearly evident to the rest of the world. They see it. They know it. They are not fooled.<br />
<br />
And our hypocrisy is always so clear to God, but it becomes our own biggest and perfect blind spot.<br />
<br />
It is time to set aside our slim and slick veneer of fake courtesy, kindness and sickly sweet niceness for people we do not even like, respect or care about. Guess what? They're onto us about that.<br />
<br />
Even little children have an instinct about anyone who is phony. But we continue to plod on, preaching the gospel with stiff backs and strained smiles, thinking we get points for the number of ears we fill. <br />
<br />
Paul warned us to make sure we let our <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Romans+12%3A9&version=NKJV" target="_blank">love be without hypocrisy</a>. <br />
<br />
Let us just be real.<br />
<br />
Let us stop pretending we can keep the first commandment to love God with all our hearts while artfully evading the keeping of the second commandment to simply and sincerely love our neighbor as ourselves.<br />
<br />
How can our proudest achievement be that we stood on the corner of life and screamed "turn or burn" to every passing sinner, louder than anyone else? Aside from yelling the gospel, how much time did we spend actually showing it and living it? Did others only hear our angry and hollow words or did they get a true glimpse of the message of the cross and grace in the way that we treated them? <br />
<br />
For the love of God, let us stop kidding ourselves that our hating and being disgusted by people is in any way the message of Christ.<br />
<br />
Imagine if the average unbeliever who was asked "what is a christian" were to respond that they may not always agree with us, but they cannot deny we are always among the most sincere, compassionate and grace filled people in the world? <br />
<br />
I would rather fight each and every year for this to become a reality than something as menial as trying to force unbelievers to accept my nativity scene in the town square.<br />
<br />
In the very next verses that followed, Paul clarified to the Philippians what exactly it means to truly esteem others better than ourselves: <br />
<br />
"<i><b>Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus, who, being in the form of God, did not consider it robbery to be equal with God, but made Himself of no reputation, taking the form of a bondservant, and coming in the likeness of men. And being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself and became obedient to the point of death, even the death of the cross.</b></i>" <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=philippians+2%3A5-8&version=NKJV" target="_blank">(Philippians 2:5-8)</a><br />
<br />
If we can do this, maybe we can do a slightly better job each and every year at remembering to keep Christ in Christians.<br />
<br />
<br />pshenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12667072515864335328noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4949716648682973656.post-26625918520970164452014-11-27T11:32:00.000-08:002014-11-27T11:38:33.666-08:00Thankful the other 364 days too!<br />
As we stumble headlong into the holidays, I've decided any tolerance that my body had as a kid for the freezing cold is quickly vanishing and almost gone. "Old people moving to Florida" is no longer a punchline to me. Those lucky farts have reached the promised land. I see that now.<br />
<br />
Sure, it is the time of year that the cold is getting more and more intolerable, but on the other hand, at least I am getting fatter than ever.<br />
<br />
<i>*cue elephant music from Dumbo cartoon*</i><br />
<br />
I am starting to think all the fall and winter holidays were mostly invented by our barely post-caveman ancestors to allow us to unashamedly eat as much as possible and pack on the pounds and insulation needed to survive the cold.<br />
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My theory stands out more to me as I am getting older, since time starts to pass more and more quickly every year (no really, that is a thing). It is a losing battle every year:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>How am I going to get rid of all this leftover Halloween candy?!</li>
<li>12 side dishes isn't too much for Thanksgiving, right?</li>
<li>Eggnog!</li>
<li>Almost done with all this leftover turkey oh my god Christmas is already here?!</li>
<li>More eggnog! YAAburpAAY!</li>
<li>How many snacks should we buy for the New Year's Eve party? BUY AAAALL THE SNACKS!</li>
</ul>
<br />
We should just change "New Year's Resolutions" to "Spring Resolutions". We can make them on April 1st, when the sun starts to come out and we don't need this extra blubber to keep warm anymore. Plus when we stop keeping the resolutions (like we always do), we can yell "April Fools!".<br />
<br />
But think about how lucky we Americans are that one of our biggest winter problems (aside from this ass biting cold) is worrying about losing pounds from too MUCH food. Many in the world don't have that luxury.<br />
<br />
I am grateful every day of the year, but I think this holiday, a set day every year to take inventory of how blessed we are is one of our best ideas.<br />
<br />
Despite the pains and problems that piled up in 2014, I know I am so lucky and blessed. I know full well how safe and comfortable I am, compared to millions across the globe. And despite having lost friends and family this last year, I am so thankful for those I still have with me.<br />
<br />
I am so incredibly thankful for my wife and kids and my family and friends. <br />
<br />
They say we are not truly grateful for what we have until we have lost it. I do not think that must always be true. We can choose to take stock and be thankful. And nothing breaks down our ingratitude and taking our blessings for granted more than speaking and acting out for them.<br />
<br />
Unless we're convinced our warm homes and full bellies are complete chance or merely from all our own hard work, it would serve our hearts well to remember those so much less fortunate than us. <br />
<br />
Let us be thankful for what we have, but more importantly for who we have. <br />
<br />
Lest we become forced to realize what we had only after we've lost it... let us remember to take a minute to put down the forks so we can hug our loved ones, tell them we love them and are so thankful they are in our lives.<br />
<br />
Tell them to squeeze a little harder than usual, so you can feel it through the extra layers.<br />
<br />
<br />pshenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12667072515864335328noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4949716648682973656.post-19050273772436130822014-11-23T12:20:00.000-08:002014-11-24T02:45:49.145-08:00I got into an argument with Facebook today<br>
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<br>
<b>Me</b>: Hey Facebook! What's up, friends!<br>
<br>
<span style="color: blue;"><b>Facebook</b></span>: Obama!<br>
<br>
<b>Me</b>: Wait... Obama... what? Obama is "up"? I don't understand what you're saying. I meant "what is up"... you know, "wassuuuuup!" As in, how are you? What are you doing?<br>
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<span style="color: blue;"><b>Facebook</b></span>: Jesus!<br>
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<b>Me</b>: You're... what the... you're doing Jesus? That doesn't make sense!! Can you even see me or hear my voice?! I meant, what is going on with you and in your life right now?<br>
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<span style="color: blue;"><b>Facebook</b></span>: Democrats suck! Republicans suck! Congress sucks!<br>
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<b>Me</b>: ARGHHH!!! We already... stop it! Just stop! Everybody already knows that Congress sucks! Congress has literally always sucked and always will! You are not saying anything original or enlightening there.<br>
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Listen, I just want to know what is up with YOU. What have YOU been doing lately? Where did you go this weekend? Are you happy? Are you sad? I'll even settle for a picture of your new haircut. What made you laugh today or be inspired?<br>
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<span style="color: blue;"><b>Facebook</b></span>: Can I post a picture that made me laugh or another one that kinda inspired me?<br>
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<b>Me</b>: Well... ok, now we're getting somewhere. Sure, I guess. I would rather hear you write something funny or inspirational from your own heart and head, but that is still cool.<br>
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<span style="color: blue;"><b>Facebook</b></span>: Can I repost 100 a day?<br>
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<b>Me</b>: NO!<br>
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<span style="color: blue;"><b>Facebook</b></span>: What about 50? <br>
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<b>Me</b>: NO! You were not inspired 50 times by 50 different things in one day! Stop it! That is just distraction and you having the attention span of a goldfish! Listen, just focus on one thing that really inspired you today and post that. And remember, an original, funny or inspirational thought that actually came out of your own head is even more funny or inspirational for the rest of us.<br>
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<b><span style="color: blue;">Facebook</span></b>: But I really love Obama and Jesus.<br>
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<b>Me</b>: Good! But try to fit that into the conversation a little better. How many people have emailed you to thank you and tell you they converted to your faith or politics because of the 100 pictures a day you reposted? How many?<br>
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<span style="color: blue;"><b>Facebook</b></span>: ......<br>
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<b>Me: </b>Facebooooook... I asked you a question. How many?<br>
<b> </b><br>
<b><span style="color: blue;">Facebook</span>: </b><span style="font-size: xx-small;">I dunno</span>. <br>
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<b>Me</b>: Facebook, I can't hear you.<br>
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<span style="color: blue;"><b>Facebook</b></span>: I said... I said, I don't know. Maybe... none, I guess.<br>
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<b>Me</b>: Maybe? You think? So, nobody who believed differently than you has been converted and let you know that you changed their religious or political beliefs by you reposting 100 unoriginal pictures a day? What does that tell you?<br>
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<span style="color: blue;"><b>Facebook</b></span>: Post 200?<br>
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<b>Me</b>: NOOOOO!!!! <br>
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<span style="color: blue;"><b>Facebook</b></span>: But... but the same 12 friends who already believe exactly like me click Like on all 100 of my picture reposts every day! I am really getting through to the ones who believe exactly like me!<br>
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<b>Me</b>: *sigh* Look, Facebook... I like you. I really do. And talking about your faith and about politics is totally natural and fine and even welcome, just as long as you are talking WITH someone and not just pointing it loudly at their ear holes or eyeballs.<br>
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But if people walk up to you in real life and in person, ask you what is up and how are you doing and the first thing you scream is "Obama is awesome!" or "Obama sucks!", everybody will learn to avoid you at parties.<br>
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You see that guy in the corner, fidgeting and smirking to himself by the snack table while everyone avoids contact? That's you. Is that what you want? Try to work your faith and politics into the conversation once in a while AFTER you ask people what they are up to and how they are doing! Just don't be a one note pony.<br>
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Are you an atheist? Great. Are you a born again christian? Great. Are you going to fill every sentence with hints that I am an idiot if I am not one or the other? Not so great, Facebook. Not cool, man. Again... if you do that in real life, you're going to be hanging out by the hors d'oeuvres by yourself a lot.<br>
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The old saying "never talk about politics or religion" is not completely true. But maybe start up a conversation directly with someone about it. Maybe even in a private email or just on their page to see if they are engaged and interested, instead of jumping up on the snack table and screaming at the room.<br>
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At the very least, write something original yourself. Don't repost 100 religious or political pictures a day. That genuinely is not making you look original or thoughtful or helping your cause. It is just white noise that people tune out more and more and scroll as fast as possible to get to the next real updates. You know, the ones with just words.<br>
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We know that those updates with just words in them are something that someone actually thought up in their brain and typed with their fingers. That is literally THEM talking and it is so much more engaging and entertaining than a screen shot of FOX News.<br>
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Sure, when they type their own thoughts, they look and sound stupid sometimes, but that is fine! At least it showed more creativity and initiative than someone just clicking the Share link on a page that only they love and follow and everyone else does not give a shit about. <br>
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We know where those religious and political pages and pictures are on the Internet and we can go looking for them if we want them, thank you. Am I getting through to you at all, Facebook?<br>
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<span style="color: blue;"><b>Facebook</b></span>: ....... <br>
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<b>Me</b>: Look! If you're really most passionate about your faith or politics, then start a blog! They are literally free and there is no character limit! That way, you can really take the time to write out in depth essays about your passion for those things and it will be YOUR thoughts.<br>
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I promise you, it will be so much more effective than yelling "Obama!" or "Jesus!" at me or showing me 100 pictures someone else made of them. <br>
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Even if it is a politics or religion blog, we will listen. But write something that is what YOU think about them and what you care about, from your heart, and not just some picture someone else pasted text over. Long winded is something we can endure, as long as it is YOU talking from your heart and not just someone else you are quoting, over and over and over.<br>
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We are more interested in YOU. Heck, we'd rather even just see an endless stream of random pictures of YOU and your family and your friends or even your interests. All pictures we take of ourselves are a little narcissistic, not just the selfie pics. But that is fine! You are in my friend list because I want to keep in touch with YOU... see updates in words and pictures about YOU and what is really on your mind and important to YOU.<br>
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<span style="color: blue;"><b>Facebook</b></span>: Can I post 50 pictures in a row of cookies and brownies?<br>
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<b>Me</b>: Dammit... that's it, I'm logging off.<br>
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